In My Head
by blddmn
Summary: When Voldemort's Horcrux fails, all the good aspects of Tom Riddle are bound to Harry. Experience Harry Potter and Tom Riddle in a new way as they go through the trials of Hogwarts in the same body. And just where does the entity known as Voldemort fit in? Rated M to be safe.
1. When Rituals Go Wrong

**In My Head**

**Disclaimer:**

I neither own the rights to the Harry Potter franchise, nor do I make any money by writing this; it is a work of fanfiction.

**Summary:**

When Voldemort went to make his final Horcrux, he hadn't counted on the lengths to which Lily Potter would go to save her son. Consequently, the failed Horcrux that attaches itself to Harry contains all of the 'good' aspects of Tom Riddle that Voldemort had suppressed over the years. Join me in experiencing a revisiting of the Harry Potter series in which Tom Riddle and Voldemort are no longer one and the same, and Harry has at least one adult he can rely on…

…~oOo~…

**Chapter One**

When Rituals Go Wrong

Voldemort looked towards the window of the Potter house. Inside he could see the young couple playing with their infant child in a most revolting display of familial affection, oh how such things made his insides roil.

He'd never really been one for all that _love_ nonsense. That decrepit old fossil Dumbledore could keep his illusion of power through the affections of others. Voldemort knew that true power could only be found within. His very existence was all the proof the world needed to show that one's greatness is defined by themselves, not who they count among their friends. That so many chose to ignore this in favour of the base fallacy known as love was no failing of his.

Moving silently across the magical barrier of the Fidelius charm afforded Voldemort a brief moment of smug pleasure; _How foolish are they to think themselves beyond Lord Voldemort's grasp_!

As he approached the door he looked once more through the window; the young man – James was the name, if he remembered correctly – had placed his wand on the table beside him, discarding his only defence at the time it would be most needed. The irony made Voldemort chuckle slightly to himself.

Reaching the door, he hastily cast a large area of effect ward that would prevent the three main forms of magical transportation (Apparition, Portkey, and Floo) from working within a fifty meter radius.

He knew that the second he cast the spell, the Potters would be aware of an intrusion as their wards would detect hostile magic in the area. It was too bad that by that point it would be too late for them.

A casual flick of his wand blasted their magically reinforced front door from its hinges as if it had been a sheet of parchment caught in a hurricane. Stepping across the threshold, Voldemort allowed himself a moment to glance contemptuously about the small and abhorrently _cosy _entry hall he was in.

"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! I'll try to hold him off – Just go!" James shouted as he ran from the sitting room to confront the Dark Lord.

Voldemort simply let out a cackle of wicked laughter; the idea that a whelp like James Potter could hold off the greatest Dark Lord of all time was so silly as to be laughable. He may even tell Bella after he had finished up here.

"Come now, Potter," Voldemort mocked as he easily stepped out of the path of the blasting curse James fired at him from the sitting room doorway, "You don't honestly think you can win?"

"We'll never give in to you!" James shouted as he fired off a spell chain. Voldemort easily dodged the stunner, blocked the cutting curse, banished the transfigured wolf and reversed the blasting hex back towards its caster.

"Such a cliché thing to say, Potter," Voldemort continued to mock him as he launched his counter attack; a series of low level blasters and cutters that forced Potter to fall back to the bottom of the stairs or risk a potentially crippling injury.

"Will you next extol how love will eventually triumph over all?" the Dark Lord cackled, finding his goading of the foolish Gryffindor to be of the utmost hilarity.

James' answer came by way of a powerful banishing charm that would send a lesser wizard straight through the wall behind him. Voldemort was not a lesser wizard. He simply raised his hand, wandlessly swatting the spell to his left while his wand arm struck forward with an evisceration curse that tore the innards from the bear James had just transfigured from a bookshelf.

Growing tired of playing with the young man (and realising that despite his excellent track record against Death Eaters, James Potter's ability to duel was mediocre at best), Voldemort launched a series of high precision piercing curses at his foe.

James shrieked in pain as the first two blasted through his thighs, shattering both his femurs and sending tumbling gracelessly to the ground. The third curse struck his wand arm on the wrist, removing any ability to defend or counter attack. The final curse struck him straight through his stomach, meaning that his own stomach acid would kill him within the next ten minutes or so.

Voldemort looked down pitilessly at the man before him as he writhed on the ground. Taking slow, measured step forward allowed James to focus on him though the pain. The best moment of any of these encounters was hearing a person's final words, right before snuffing them from existence.

He crouched down by James, locking his merciless crimson eyes with the teary brown ones of the man he was about to kill, "For all your efforts, Potter, nothing has changed. The boy will die and the prophecy will be fulfilled. How does it feel to know that in the end your death means nothing?"

"By now, Lily will be long gone. Harry with her," James managed to get out between gasps of pain.

"Ah," Voldemort shook his head slowly, with a mocking smile on his face, "but you see, she's still upstairs, barricading herself in the boy's bedroom."

"You can't know that," James spat, a slight tone of pleading in his voice. "she must have escaped."

"Snakes can detect heat signatures using their smell," Voldemort calmly informed the dying man, "why do you think I changed my nose?" he let out another cackle of laughter.

"You may think you've won," James said solemnly. _Ah so these will be his final words then_. "But in the end a heartless monsters like you always fail."

"Always this talk of hearts," Voldemort said with only slight frustration, "must you people all be so unoriginal that everything must come back to love?"

He stood up and looked down at the man on the ground before him, "Now, although I'm sure it would bring me a great deal of amusement to leave you dying there while I kill your son, I'm afraid I don't like leaving business unfinished." He levelled his wand at James' chest and looked him right in the eye, "_Avada Kedavra_!"

Watching the life leave James' Potter's eyes as the green light of the killing curse stuck him was an immensely satisfying moment. Watching as life was snuffed out from another person was probably the only thing that truly made him happy in life. Sure having his way with Bella (or whatever prisoner he felt was not utterly beneath him) was pleasurable enough, but having the power to remove a soul from existence… _perfection_.

Moving up the stairs, Voldemort used his augmented sense of smell to lead him straight to his quarry. Standing outside the bedroom door, he decided to go for a more dramatic than brutal approach. Raising his wand, he incinerated the door and all the objects that Lily potter had piled up in vain in her attempt to barricade herself in.

She was staring fearfully up at him from in front of the child's crib, her body moving into a position to come between the child and Voldemort's wand.

"Stand aside girl," he commanded her as he stepped through the door, "you need not die tonight."

"Please! Not Harry, don't hurt Harry! I'll do anything!" she shrieked at him. _Urgh!_ He did so despise when they tried to plead with him, it was utterly undignified.

"Silence!" he snapped, the ferocity in his voice causing the mother's mouth to clamp shut as her eyes widened in fear.

Unfortunately her maternal instincts kicked back in and she once again started babbling about her child. 'not Harry' this and 'me instead' that. Voldemort realised now that the woman would make it impossible for him to get to the child like this. He'd have to kill her. Unless…

"_Crucio_," he lazily intoned, the red light hit the woman square in the chest and instantly fell to the ground, howling in pain. He followed up with a silencer and a banishing spell to shove her to the side, all the while keeping her under the Cruciatus curse. That was Snape's boon taken care of; though why Severus wanted the Mudblood was beyond his understanding entirely.

Looking into the crib, he saw the crying child looking up at him through its startlingly green eyes. Clearly it didn't like seeing its mother in pain and was starting to work itself into full blown hysterics.

Voldemort decided to get the ritual over with so he wouldn't have to listen to the child bawling for any longer than strictly necessary; he found the crying of infants to be one of the most loathsome and irritating noises in all creation.

Cancelling the torture curse he had been maintaining on Lily, he swiftly fired off a powerful stunner at her twitching form so that he would have his full concentration on making the Horcrux.

Flicking his wand once more, he summoned three items from his robes, the first two were phials of clear liquid that would be used for the ritual. The final item was a masterfully crafted dagger that had once been worn by Gryffindor alongside his sword.

Voldemort placed the dagger on the ground between him and Harry's cot and used his wand to draw a complex runic configuration around it. This would act as to syphon the life force from the child into Voldemort which would in turn be used to tear his own soul which would then be bound to the dagger.

Unstopping the first phial, Voldemort immediately raised it to his lips and drank the entire potion in a single gulp. A shiver passed through his entire body as the soul loosening potion began to take effect, preparing his body and soul for the trauma of a soul tearing.

The next phial contained an interesting potion that directed the travel of soul energy. First, he moved to the child and doused his eyes in the potion (the eyes are the windows to the soul, after all), eliciting a howl of pure pain from the already hysterical baby. The Dark Lord then repeated the process on himself – making only a tiny hiss of pain at the horrific burning sensation that was assaulting his eyes – before pouring the rest of the potion over the dagger.

Looking back at the child, Voldemort levelled his wand at where the infant's head should be (although the potion made everything somewhat blurry) and breathed out a long, deep breath, taking in the historic moment where he would remove the only person who could ever threaten him from existence.

"_Avada Kedavra_!"

The spell hit the child on the forehead, causing the child to fall back as the spell impacted. He closed his eyes and waited for the pain of soul tearing to rack his body. Only it didn't come.

Opening his eyes he looked at the boy only to see that rather than dead, the child was merely unconscious. Upon his head, a strangely shaped cut was leaking blood all down his face and onto the bedding.

A horrific moment of clarity, Voldemort realised that whatever Lily had not been simply barricading herself in here. She had been setting a trap for him.

Looking over towards where he had cast her body he noticed immediately what was wrong. Lily Potter was surrounded by blood.

With a scream of fury he fired a cutting curse that tore open her clothing and showed him what had caused the blood loss. All across her bare back, fresh runes were carved into her skin, blood runes that were designed to negate the effects of dark magic within ten meters of her body.

And Voldemort had left her in the room. Her death from blood loss had offered the necessary sacrifice to power the runes while the Dark Lord had been focused on his own ritual. A ritual that had been tampered with by Lily's own magic.

With a scream of primal rage he turned back to the boy, the Fiendfyre curse upon his lips, only to be stopped in his tracks by what he saw. The boy's eyes were glowing.

Abandoning any plan he had of finishing the boy, Voldemort instead turned and ran to the door, only to be struck down as a blast of pure light burst forth from the boy's eyes, sending the Dark Lord flying into the wall.

The Dark Lord tried to rise from his position on the ground, his mind analysing the situation even as he registered that the blast had shattered his hip. Potion he had doused the boy's eyes with was acting as a conduit for the power of his own killing curse.

No sooner had he registered this then another beam of light issued from the boys eyes and connected with the dagger on the floor. Said dagger started to shake and glow with a violent green light before exploding with enough raw power to level half the house.

The last thing that Lord Voldemort felt was the unimaginable pain as his body and soul were torn apart in the blast.

…~oOo~…

Harry Potter groaned in frustration as he looked over the essay he had been writing. He was sitting cross-legged on his cot in the cupboard under the stairs with a sheet of lined paper pressed against the wall. From the combination of the odd angle he was sitting at to write using the wall and the fact that the size of the cupboard made him slouch over, Harry was very uncomfortable.

"Why do I even got to write this stupid essay?" he asked aloud, "no other kids have to write essays."

"_Why _must_ I write this essay, Harry. If you are going to complain, then at least do so properly_," said a voice in his head.

"But, Tom," Harry whined, "none of the other kids have to write essays, why do I?"

"_The other children in your class won't be going to Hogwarts when they are older_," the voice said sagely, "_Besides, it's never too early to practice essay writing. You will most certainly thank me when you get to your OWLs, Harry_."

"When did you say I'd do my OWLs again?" Harry asked, trying to remember what Tom had told him about Hogwarts examinations.

"_It will be towards the end of your fifth year, Harry,_" Tom replied, "_Therefore, you will be fifteen when you sit them._"

"But I'm only seven now!" Harry shouted indignantly before clapping his hands over his mouth in shock. The Dursleys would not appreciate him being noisy, especially when it involved talking to someone that wasn't actually there.

"_Do be sure to keep quiet, Harry,_" Tom reminded him, "_It was awfully horrid what Vernon did last time you were caught talking to me._"

Harry scowled in remembrance; three days locked in his cupboard only to be allowed out to go to the toilet and sneak a mouthful of water from the bathroom sink. It had not been pleasant.

He suddenly felt a wave of sadness pass over him; it was a familiar feeling, something born of always being the odd one out, of always being discriminated against at home, of no one ever taking his side, of not knowing if his only friend was real or just a figment of his imagination.

"_Less of that wallowing,_" Tom told him firmly, easily able to interpret Harry's thoughts, "_if I wasn't real then you wouldn't have had the vocabulary available to question your teacher on her flagrant disregard for common sense and moral decency when comparing you with Dudley_."

Harry snorted, "For all the good it did. I still got sent to the headmaster's office!"

"_And I helped you deal with the situation from there_," Tom's voice rang with a tone of finality.

Harry shivered slightly. He liked Tom, most of the time at least. He was polite and kind and told him about magic. But he could be scary too. Sometimes, when someone made Harry really angry or scared, Tom could control Harry's actions.

Usually he chose to do nothing, or to say something charming and clever to get himself out of trouble. If it involved Dudley he would always find a way to move just out of his cousin's reach. If it was Vernon, he would act properly humble and contrite, that usually resulted in just one evening in the cupboard. The few times he had scared Harry though, were when he was alone with someone that was not a member of family.

Harry could clearly remember how scared he was at being sent into the Headmaster's office; he was one of uncle Vernon's old friends from Smeltings, and believed uncle Vernon's tale of Harry being a menace as if it were Gospel. When Tom had realised things weren't going to go there way he had just raised his hand and the man had started writhing on the floor, screaming but without any sound. After about a minute Tom had waved Harry's hand again and the Headmaster got a glazed look in his eyes, he had then sat up as if nothing had told Harry he could go back to class.

"_Never fear me, Harry_," Tom had told him, "_I remember many things from my old life. Most of my memories are so foul that I dare not speak of them. But if I must, I will use my knowledge to keep you safe._"

"Why would you keep me safe?" Harry had asked him.

"_Because I am tied to you through magic and blood,_" was his only answer.

Harry snapped out of his memories, and settled back to the task at hand. Putting his pencil to paper once more he continued to write out the various uses of Aconite in potions and the different effects that can be derived from its usage.

"You know," Harry mused as he started a new paragraph, "I don't see why I need to do this anyway. If you're always going to be stuck in my head then surely you could just tell me the answers when I have to my OWLs."

"_That would be cheating, Harry_," Tom said sternly. Tom was very much into how a person makes their own power. The amount of times he had lectured Harry about it were beyond counting. That Harry chose to ignore him was not really his fault, what seven year old orphan would rather think about how pronunciation of consonants within incantations can affect spell effectiveness when they could be imagining what it would be like to have a real family, not just the stupid Dursleys and a voice no one else can hear?

"Then maybe you should get your own head to think in," Harry told him smugly. Despite Tom's failings he was still fun to tease sometimes.

"_Harry, you know perfectly well that I'm bound to you in an incorporeal state,_" Tom retorted sharply. He always got in a little snit when he was on the receiving end of a joke, so Harry did it sparingly.

"Not that you'll tell me what that actually means," Harry reminded him, determined to have the last say.

"_The implications are far too much for a seven year old to handle,_" Tom said, sounding like a petulant grown up (a very odd thought to come from a seven year old, but to be fair, Harry's only friend _is_ a grown up).

"Then you'll just have to put up with me asking until I find out," Harry told him happily, he then laughed happily to himself, pleased as always to outwit Tom.

"_Yes, yes, let us all laugh at Tom_," the voice said sarcastically.

"Okay!" Harry said before bursting out laughing again. Seven year olds really are easy to amuse sometimes.

"_Oh do quiet yourself!_" Tom said huffily, "_You had better finish that essay now, Harry. Vernon will be taking Dudley to watch the football soon and we'll have to book you an appointment at the opticians while Petunia is cleaning the bath_."

"Yeah, okay," Harry agreed, quietening himself enough to continue on his essay. "The words _have_ been getting fuzzier lately."

"_Which is the only reason I haven't criticized how you have been penning your _f_'s recently. Honestly, they are absolutely atrocious!_"

…~oOo~…

A few years later saw Harry sitting in the living room along with the Dursleys, he was just out of range of Dudley's Smeltings stick and was just trying to figure out why any school would consider them a good idea when the tell sound of letters hitting the floor alerted the Dursleys (and Harry) that the post had arrived.

"Get the post, Dudley," Uncle Vernon said, not looking up from his newspaper.

"Make Harry get it!" Dudley whined

"Get the post, Harry," Uncle Vernon amended, still not looking up from his newspaper.

"Make Dudley get it," Harry tried, just for the hell of it.

"Hit him with your Smeltings stick, Dudley," Uncle Vernon instructed his son, clearly fed up of all this talk interrupting his morning read.

Harry sprang up and headed to get to the post while Dudley was still working out whether or not it was worth the physical effort of getting up from his chair to hit Harry.

Lying on the mat were all the usual stuff, bills for Uncle Vernon and letters to Aunt Petunia from her insipid friends on Magnolia Crescent (she couldn't have _proper_ friends on Privet Drive as she was convinced they would at some point see Harry. That and they would possibly look down their nose at her front garden). Most curious of all though, was the letter addressed to Harry, a letter that had a crest on it that he remembered Tom telling it about before…

"_Pocket it,_" Tom suggested while Harry was still staring at the first piece of mail he had ever received.

_Why?_ He thought back. He had realised that talking to Tom without actually speaking was the best way of not freaking people out by talking to seemingly no one (the time last year when people had thought he was schizophrenic had been a real eye opener).

"_Because if I know your relatives – and seeing as I've been in your head for about a decade I can safely say I do – then I can say with the utmost certainty that they will in no way approve of you receiving this letter. Hide it and read it later. I'll try and figure out something to do about the situation._"

_Fine by me_, Harry acknowledged as he stuffed his letter into one of the pockets in his baggy trousers and headed back into the living room.

The day progressed normally from there Harry was sent to clean the toilet, weed the garden, mow the lawn and polish the kitchen floor. Aunt petunia dusted the entire house and ensured all the crockery was in perfect condition. Uncle Vernon drove by the office to check up on everything. Dudley stayed in his room, playing games on his computer.

In what felt like no time at all, Harry was sitting in his cupboard reading over his Hogwarts letter, only half listening as Tom reminisced about Hogwarts.

"_Of course, I had expected that Dumbledore would remain Headmaster_," Tom said, his tone somewhat pompous (he really did like it when he was proven right about something). "_That McGonagall is deputy is not surprising in the least. Though I quite remember if that happened before or after I got stuck in your head…_"

_How _did_ you get stuck in my head?_ Harry asked him for the umpteenth time. He didn't really expect an answer, he just asked out of habit now.

"_I'll tell you when you're older_," Tom replied absentmindedly before carrying on his discourse of the texts Harry would be studying. "_Of course, the history tome is essentially the same as they had back when I was last in Hogwarts – applied for a teaching post, don't you know – it's the same author to boot. Back when I was a lad we never used Bathida Bagshot, although Binns _still_ taught the exact same Goblin revolt nonsense._"

"Sure thing, Tom," Harry muttered as he looked over the list of necessities again, trying and failing to work out a way he could pay for all of his school equipment.

_Say, Tom,_ he thought,_ what happens if a student doesn't have the money to afford their school things?_

"_Ah yes,_" Tom broke off his bookish sermon just at the point where he started talking about the potions texts (Harry didn't see much point in getting one of those as Tom had made him memorize just about every common potions ingredient and their usages known to man). "_When I was a lad I was able to draw from the muggleborn funds. But, unfortunately, as they didn't have a teacher deliver the letter to you they think you already know about Hogwarts and will be expecting that the Dursleys can pay your expenses._"

_But the Dursleys would _never_ pay for my stuff!_ Harry insisted, starting to worry that he wouldn't be able to go to Hogwarts after all. Then he really would have to go to Stonewall High. _Surely I can get in contact with Hogwarts somehow._

"_Not unless you have an owl or a wand I'm afraid._" Tom said, after a brief pause his tone turned much more speculative, Harry took this to be a good sign. "_Although, if we can get to Diagon Alley-_"

_Diagonally? seriously?_ Harry interrupted. _Is that meant to be some sort of Wizard joke?_

"_You know, I've never found out. Although the adjacent alley way utilises a pun of the word 'nocturnal'_"

"Please don't tell me it's Nocturn Alley," Harry muttered aloud.

"_I'm afraid it is, Harry, although it's spelt with a K, as in to knock a door,_" Tom confirmed for Harry. "_Anyway, enough distractions, I was about to reveal my ingenious plan._"

_Fire away._

"_Yes, well, first off we need to get you to London,_" Tom informed him, as if that was as easy as walking to the park, "_From there you need to get to Diagon Alley and subsequently Gringotts – that's the bank wizards use – where we may be able to inquire after the Potter holdings…_" Tom petered out at that point, Harry was about to tell him he liked this plan when he suddenly dashed all of his hopes. "_No wait, you don't have the key. Blast! It was a good plan as well; nice and self-sufficient._"

Harry sorely felt like using some of Dudley's favourite swear words at that moment. _What do we do now then_?

"_We'll have to show your relatives the letter_," Tom said, he even sounded rather glum about it.

Tom made Harry place the letter back in the envelope and talked him through using his magic to melt the broken wax seal (just enough so that it melded back together and appeared unopened), the effort left Harry physically drained and he had to lie down on his cot for about half an hour before he was able to walk into the living room and declare excitedly:

"I have a letter!" Harry overemphasised smile caught the attention of his family as they all looked confusedly up at him. Surely the boy can't be happy about something!

Vernon was about to wave it of as inconsequential when a shriek of ear splitting magnitude issued from the thin lips of Aunt Petunia, "Oh Vernon!," she sobbed melodramatically, "it's from _them!_"

Uncle Vernon moved faster than Harry had ever seen in his life, practically leaping across the room to snatch the letter from Harry's grasp. Harry in turn only put up a token attempt at protest, "Hey, that's mine!" before settling in to watch as his Aunt and Uncle decided what to do.

What neither Tom nor Harry had expected was the completely illogical reaction of Petunia and Vernon Dursley. From their initial refusal to acknowledge that the letter was for Harry at all (which was easily countered by pointing out the inclusion of his cupboard on the front of the letter), to moving Harry into Dudley's second bedroom (Tom had at that point said not to intervene to see how amusing things could get), to even blocking off any way for letters to get into the house via nailing plywood to just about any wall/window/door that could possibly lead to the world outside (not that that stopped the letters).

So it was that on the night before Harry's birthday was sitting in a miserably cold shack, situated in the middle of nowhere (literally) having an argument with Tom about whether or not they had let things get too far.

_I know it was funny, but now that I'm freezing my arse off-_

"_Bottom, Harry, must you always be so vulgar?_" Tom interrupted him with what Harry knew was a rhetorical question.

_Anyway, I think Uncle Vernon has actually gone mad. I mean, who honestly thinks this is a good idea._

"_And that package he's got is clearly some sort of firearm,_" Tom agreed

_You're supposed to be persuading me this is was a good idea!_ Harry bemoaned, not liking that Tom was agreeing with him at the one time Harry wanted to be wrong.

"_Sorry,_" Tom said, sounding sincere, "_look on the bright side; it will be your birthday in just under a minute._"

A real smile slipped across Harry's face. Sure, his birthdays weren't full of cake or presents like Dudley's were, but every year since Harry had turned seven Tom would teach him a new bit of magic (that was excluding the heat spell he had used to melt the wax on the letter).

So far Harry could open simple locks, repair his glasses, summon small objects from a few meters away, create a small silencing charm that would stop his feet making noise, and of course now he could heat things up if he focused his magic on them.

_What can I learn this year?_ Harry asked excitedly, all thoughts about the cold shack completely forgotten.

"_Can't say just yet, Harry_," Tom told him, though Harry could hear the smile in his voice (an odd thought seeing as Tom lacked the physical form necessary to smile).

_Guess we'll just have to do the countdown then_, Harry thought back as he checked his watch.

"_Ten._"

_Nine_

"_Eight._"

_Seven._

"_Six._"

_ Five._

"_Four._"

_ Three._

"_Two._"

_ One._

It was at just that moment that a sudden loud banging sound issued from the door. The tremendous noise of which was enough to wake Dudley up, his frightened jump making him fall clean off the sofa he had been sleeping on.

Moments later Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were coming down the stairs, Vernon armed with a double barrelled hunting rifle which he was aiming shakily at the door.

"I'm warning you," he shouted, his voice breaking towards the end, "I'm armed!"

In response the banging stopped for a moment. Harry actually wondered whether his Uncle had scared the person off when suddenly the door was knocked clean off its hinges. The howling wind screamed through the house and made Aunt Petunia scream and hold down her nightdress for fear of it floating up.

Harry though didn't notice any of that; instead he was staring in complete shock at the person who was now standing in the doorway to the miserable little shack…

…~oOo~…

**A.N.** Hi everyone, I'd like to say a huge thank you for checking out this fic and reading to the end of the chapter. This story is still in its infancy so your feedback on what you make of it will be very much appreciated.

Also, please let me know what sort of things you would like to see in the story (be that a pairing preference, or even just scenes you'd like to see) as it will help make getting ideas easier for me, and the experience more fulfilling for you.

Thanks again for taking the time to read this.

Blddmn.


	2. The Boy Who Lived

**In My Head**

**Disclaimer:**

I neither own the rights to the Harry Potter franchise, nor do I make any money by writing this; it is a work of fanfiction.

**A huge thank you** to all of those who have reviewed, followed, or favourited this story so far. You have no idea just how great it was to find my email inundated with ffn notifications. Thank you all so much for the support!

…~oOo~…

**Chapter Two**

The Boy Who Lived

Stepping through the doorway was the single biggest man Harry had ever seen, his sheer size made Uncle Vernon look small in comparison (well, short at least, Vernon was still a fat pig in Harry's eyes). Upon getting out of the rain the man lifted up the door from the floor and popped it back into place as if this were completely normal.

"Sorry 'bout that," he said unconcernedly, as he moved over to take Dudley's place on the sofa.

The man had thick black hair that seemed to cover his entire head and face, giving Harry the impression of the Sasquatch creature he had once read about in the school library. The man's feet were certainly big enough.

"_I can't believe they sent Hagrid,_" Tom said disbelievingly, "_How utterly demeaning._"

_Who's Hagrid?_ Harry asked as the man and Uncle Vernon exchanged – well you couldn't quite call it pleasantries, especially when the Hagrid man reached over the sofa and bent Uncle Vernon's rifle into a bow.

"_It's him of course, Harry_," Tom said exasperatedly.

_Well thanks for clearing that up, Master-of-the-obvious,_" Harry snapped back, _I mean who is he and why is he here?_

"_To give you your Hogwarts letter, of course_," Tom informed him as if this had been the most obvious thing in the world, "_Don't reveal you know about Hogwarts, and remember, stick to the golden rule and this should all go fairly smoothly._"

_Never tell anyone you exist,_ Harry recited from memory, _got it._

"Las' time I saw you, you was just a baby, Harry," the giant of a man addressed him. "Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh've got yer mums eyes."

Harry was trying to think of a way to reply that was somehow witty and incorporated how he'd never had a corneal transplant when Uncle Vernon made an odd spluttering noise, drawing the focus of the room onto himself.

"I demand that you leave at once sir," he blustered, "you are breaking and entering!"

"Cram it Dursley, yeh sack o' lard," Hagrid retorted, prodding him firmly to emphasise his words (the force of that prod sent Uncle Vernon falling up the stairs).

The giant then turned back towards Harry, "Anyway, Harry, happy birthday, I got yeh somethin'," he then reached into one of the many pockets on his huge coat and pulled out a squashed looking box. "I mighta sat on it at some point', but it'll still taste fine."

Harry opened the box to see a chocolate cake with _happy birthday harry_ written in green icing. Harry smiled and looked up at the giant. "Thank you so much, Mr…?"

"Hagrid, Rubeus Hagrid," the man said, beaming happily at Harry, "Keeper of the keys and the grounds at Hogwarts, 'course you know all about that don' you."

Harry couldn't help but pull the giant's leg, "Hogwarts? Is that a pig farm?" Harry grinned as he heard Tom burst out laughing.

The giant's reaction, however, was nothing like he had been expecting. "Hogwarts, a pig farm!" Hagrid bellowed furiously before rounding on Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. "Dursley! Haven't yeh told him nothin' about his past?"

"_Double negative,_" Tom said dispassionately, "_At least his parents named him right with Rube_"

_I thought that referred to Rednecks_

"_I was more aiming for the unsophisticated or simpleton connotations,_" Tom informed him, "_Anyway, where did you learn about rednecks?_"

_Uncle Vernon was complaining about some Americans he saw on the news,_ Harry answered.

"_Ah yes, that sounds about right._"

Hagrid had by this point turned back to Harry, a sad sort of anxious expression on his face, "Didn't yeh wander where yer mum an' dad learnt it all?" He asked.

"Leant what?" Harry replied with a question, feeling bad over the upset this was causing Hagrid, but knowing that he couldn't reveal his knowledge without revealing Tom.

Hagrid shot a baleful look over at the cowering Dursleys before leaning in close to Harry and whispering, "Yer a wizard, Harry."

Harry, in a move that shocked Hagrid, simply chuckled and said, "Oh that. I prefer to think of it as an evolutionarily advanced individual. Although being wizard works too."

"Yeh what?" was all Hagrid managed to splutter. Tom on the other hand was roaring with laughter.

"Well I figured out I was a wizard when I started being able to manipulate the world around me without physical interaction. I assumed that there were other people like me as the only other alternative would be for me to be the new evolution of man. I liked the idea of being the world's first Homo-Magus."

Hagrid continued to look confusedly at him "Yeh, what?"

"Never mind, just me making a joke," Harry said with a smile, "Suffices to say that I've known I was a wizard for a while. The Dursleys never told me anything about it though."

"Yeh mean yeh don't know 'bout what happened to yer parents?" Hagrid asked, utterly astounded.

"I know they died in a car crash," Harry answered.

"A car crash?!" Hagrid bellowed in outrage, "a car crash kill Lily and James Potter? It's an outrage, a scandal!"

"Well, considering that traffic accidents account for more deaths than guns, I'd say I've to say that it makes perfect sense," Harry admitted, "Although, I take it from your reaction that their deaths were somewhat different to what I was led to believe."

"Of course they were, Harry," Hagrid said, still flabbergasted over the revelation that Harry didn't know about his parent's deaths. "Harry, I'm sorry to have to tell you this," Hagrid seemed to be holding back tears, "but yer parents were murdered."

Harry felt an icy chill run through him. _Did you know about this?_ He asked Tom.

"_I did,_" Tom admitted, "_I didn't tell you because it is a rather distressing topic that I would rather not get into._"

_You lied to me?_

"_Only if you hold to the idea of lying through omission_," Tom replied. "_It's not something I wanted to burden you with, Harry._"

_What do you know about it_?

"_Your mother gave her own life to save yours,_" Tom admitted, "_Your father was already dead by that point._"

"Harry?" it was Hagrid, he was looking concernedly down at the young boy in front of him. Belatedly, Harry realised that he had been standing silently while he had talked with Tom.

"I… I never knew," Harry muttered, tears springing to his eyes.

Hagrid had rounded on the Dursleys again, this time rising from the sofa and advancing on them in his rage, "Yeh never told him! All these years and yeh never told him what was in the letter Dumbledore left fer him. I was there, Dursley; I saw Dumbledore leave it."

"And why should we show him?" Aunt Petunia suddenly shrieked, seeming to find some courage in her indignation. "It was you and your crack-pot Headmaster that left the child on our doorstep without so much as a 'by your leave'."

That seemed have been just one step too far; Hagrid suddenly brandished a pink umbrella and pointed it towards the Dursleys.

"Never. Insult. Albus Dumbledore. In front of me," he practically growled at them before turning on the spot and thrusting his umbrella at Dudley (who was currently gorging himself on Harry's birthday cake). A spark shot from the tip of the umbrella and hit Dudley right on his fat bottom. Harry didn't even try to hold in his laughter as a pigs tail sprouted from just under Dudley's coccyx.

"_Well you now have blackmail material on him until they get rid of that tail,_" Tom remarked casually.

_Is that those laws about when you can and can't use magic you told me about?_

"_Indeed it is, well remembered._"

As the Dursleys started shrieking and rushing around after Dudley, Harry turned back to Hagrid, intent on finding out more about them. "Why were my parents murdered, Hagrid?"

"Ah, Harry, I'm not sure that I'm the right person to tell yeh that," Hagrid said nervously, "but I guess yeh can' go on not knowing. Merlin knows every other kid in our world does."

He scowled darkly at the Dursleys as they tried to usher the hysterical Dudley upstairs; away from Hagrid and his umbrella.

"I'll try to tell yeh what I know," Hagrid said, "mind I can't tell yeh everythin' as lots of it's still a big mystery."

"I'll be grateful for whatever you can tell me," Harry admitted, then remembering something Tom told him once (Machiavellian intelligence, he thought Tom called it) he put on a pout and glanced towards the ground. "I've never really heard about them before," the sadness in his voice was only slight exaggerated.

Hagrid eyes glistened with unshed tears, "O'course, Harry," Hagrid took a great shuddering breath. "It all started with you know- oh bugger. Yeh don' know do yeh?"

"Was that rhetorical?" Harry gave by way of answer

"Well this is uncomfortable," Hagrid said glumly, harry managed to notice a bead of sweat appear on his forehead, "see I don' really like saying his name, no one does."

"That seems a bit silly," Harry said, confused.

"Yeh wouldn' understand, Harry, yeh weren't there fer the worst of it," Hagrid defended, "people are still scared of the name. Scared of him. Yeh see, he was a wizard who went bad, worse than bad; as bad as yeh can go. His name was… name was…"

Harry took pity on Hagrid's failure to muster the courage to say this wizard's name. "Can't you just write it down, Hagrid, if you don't want to say it?"

"Nah, I can't spell it," Hagrid admitted with a shrug.

"_It's not that hard, really_," Tom muttered.

Harry ignored Tom, thinking that he shouldn't be rude to the only person who wasn't treating him like a freak (he didn't count Mrs Figg because he and Tom had decided not to trust her since discovering that her cats were all Kneazles).

"All right," Hagrid had a determined look on his face. "_Voldemort,_" he whispered.

"Voldemort?" Harry asked, not sure what he thought about the name. The 'mort' part reminded him of the Latin word 'mortis' which had connotations of death (Tom had at one point tried to teach him Latin; unsuccessfully, mind you).

Hagrid shushed him frantically, "Don't make me say it again! Anyway, about twenty years ago You-Know-Who started gathering followers. Got them too, some were scared; others wanted some of his power."

"_Death Eaters_," Tom informed him. A chill ran down Harry's spine.

"They were dark times, Harry," Hagrid continued solemnly, "those that stood up to him were killed, or worse. About the only safe place left was Hogwarts, reckon that Dumbledore is the only person You-Know-Who ever feared."

Tom scoffed at that, which Harry thought was odd.

"Now, yer mum and dad were as good a witch n' wizard as I've ever known. Yer dad's family had refused You-Know-Who's offer to join them before yeh were born. Both yer grandparents on yer dad's side were killed for that," Hagrid trailed off for a moment to wipe his eyes before continuing. "'Course that meant yer dad would never join with You-Know-Who."

"Yer mum was a muggleborn," Hagrid started but had to stop to explain when Harry just looked at him confusedly. "Sorry, I forget that yeh don't know all this stuff. A muggleborn is someone who's born to non-magic parents. You-Know-Who's lot were all into blood purity, that's magic being kept in all magic families, load of rubbish. Anyway, that automatically put yer mum on his hit list."

"No one really knows why he came after yeh," Hagrid suddenly had to pause to blow his nose, "maybe jus' wanted yeh all outta the way. But fer whatever reason, he showed up in the village you were living an… and he…"

"It's ok, Hagrid," Harry put a hand on the huge man's shoulder, eliciting a genuine smile from the man-mountain.

"Alright," Hagrid patted Harry on the back, almost knocking him to the floor, "well after he… you know. He moved on to you. Probably wanted to make a clean job of it, or just liked the killing." The disgust in Hagrid's tone was evident.

"_He did_," Tom said sorrowfully. Harry didn't have time to question his friend as Hagrid continued talking.

"That's where the real mystery comes in you see. The thing is that he couldn't do it. And not fer lack trying neither," there was a hint of pride in his voice as the huge man cast his gaze over Harry. "That scar on yer forehead ain't no ordinary cut, Harry. You only get a mark like that when you're touched by a very powerful dark curse. No one ever lived once he decided to kill 'em. No one that is, except you."

Harry suddenly remembered all the wizards he had run into over the years; the ones that had bowed to him or wanted to shake his hand. Tom had said to just be polite and not arouse suspicion. Now he knew why. They didn't bow to him because it was some strange wizarding custom; it was because they admired him.

"I'm not… famous… am I, Hagrid?" Harry asked tentatively. He didn't want to be famous, if there was one thing he had learnt through living with the Dursleys it was that out of sight was out of mind. And if you were out of mind then people wouldn't do bad things to you.

"_Don't forget that you're emotional development has left you psychologically stunted,_" Tom put in. Harry sent a mental scowl at him, Tom often said things without thinking about how they could make other people feel. Harry was used to it of course, but it was probably a good thing at times that Tom couldn't actually talk to other people.

"_I heard that_."

_Shut it._

"Famous?" Hagrid chuckled. "Don't bloody cover it, Harry. Everyone in our world knows yer name. You're the boy who lived!"

"_That title has Dumbledore written all over it,_" Tom said disparagingly.

"That's a really rubbish nickname, Hagrid," Harry said dispassionately.

"Yeh think so?" Hagrid seemed mildly surprised. He then pulled a pocket watch out of one of the many pockets on his coat. "Blimey, Harry, would yeh look at the time. It's getting rather late. Oh yes, here." Hagrid passed Harry the now familiar sight of a Hogwarts letter.

Feigning excitement Harry tore into the letter and reread it with as much enthusiasm as wHihas physically possible.

"Now get some sleep," Hagrid told him as he leaned back on the sofa and thrust his umbrella at the fireplace. A flash of light appeared and moments later a roaring fire was blazing away in the fireplace. "We've got a big day tomorrow," Hagrid mumbled as he closed his eyes and settled down for some much needed shut-eye.

…~oOo~…

The next day saw Harry on his way to Diagon Alley, to make his much anticipated debut in the wizarding world. The morning had passed mostly without incident, although there had been a strange moment involving an owl and having to search through Hagrid's mammoth sized coat.

Following a swift breakfast consisting of sausages and left over birthday cake (Harry really didn't want to know where the sausages had come from) Harry and Hagrid had made their way back to shore in a small boat (small meaning that Harry had to sit on Hagrid's lap) that moved through the water using magic. Once back on land, they had begun the long journey that would take them to Diagon Alley.

"So if you can use ma-" Harry began voicing his question only to be shushed frantically by Hagrid.

"Yeh can't just go blurtin' that out in front of the Muggles, Harry," Hagrid whispered urgently, "There're laws about this sorta thing."

"_Well he should have mentioned that before now then,_" Tom stated frankly. Harry was sure by this point that Tom had known Hagrid before getting stuck in his head, his uncharacteristic dislike for the gentle giant (and Harry could honestly say that Hagrid is the most openly emotional man he'd ever met) was just too blatant to be coincidence.

_Well you did tell me, so shush,_ Harry mentally chastised Tom. "Sorry Hagrid," Harry said in an appropriately shocked voice, eyes going just wide enough to show that he was sorry for making such a rookie mistake. "But why couldn't we use private transport to get to the Alley?"

"Well, I'm not really supposed to use you-know-what," Hagrid admitted sheepishly, "But Dumbledore gave me permission to use it to get yeh. Now that I've got yeh, we'll be headin' to Diagon Alley the muggle way."

"_Now that _is_ interesting,_" Tom piped in, his tone having turned inquisitive rather than sarcastic, "_Dumbledore doesn't have the authority to allow Hagrid to use magic. I wander what he means to do by sending the oaf…_"

Harry too was rather interested in this development, as knowing now that Dumbledore was skirting wizarding law in order to have Hagrid collect him could have any number of implications for Harry, few of them good.

_Why would he send Hagrid if he's not meant to use magic?_ Harry asked Tom, hoping that the man who shared his head would have come up with a theory to explain this discrepancy.

"_I can't be certain, I don't think something like this has happened before,_" Tom admitted. "_Although, Hogwarts procedure usually dictates that one of the head of houses deliver the Hogwarts letter. In your case I would assume that one of them, or even Dumbledore himself, should have come to find out why you hadn't replied to your letter._"

_It just doesn't make sense_, Harry summed up glumly; he had thought that maybe Dumbledore had wanted to ingratiate Harry to himself, but then why not come in person?

"_Harry! That's it!_" Tom exclaimed, shocking Harry (it often came as a shock when Tom commented on thoughts that had not been specifically directed at him). "_He does want to ingratiate you towards him, but he needs Hagrid to do the one thing that a 'respectable' member of staff could not._"

Harry waited in vain for Tom to continue. Giving a mental huff, he gave in and decided to just ask Tom; _And what is that then, or are you waiting for all of the players to be in the same room so you can unravel the grand design before them like some Agatha Christie protagonist?_

"_Your glibness does you no credit, I was simply creating a more dramatic atmosphere, something that your underdeveloped mind obviously can't comprehend,_" Tom shot back, decidedly not answering the question.

_I'm eleven_, Harry deadpanned, _get on with it._

"_Fine,_" Tom huffed, "_if you wish to be blunt about such things then I shall accommodate your lack of finesse._"

_Get on with it, now!_

"_Spoilsport. Dumbledore doesn't only want you to look up to him; he wants you to gravitate towards a certain house, or more accurately, away from one in particular._"

_And why does he need Hagrid for that?_ Harry asked, although he was already putting connections together in his mind. Hagrid had told him during the course of their discussions that 'not a witch or wizard gone wrong wasn't in Slytherin.'

Of course, Harry hadn't told him that he already knew about the houses from Tom, he had simply asked what the Hogwarts crest stood for and had been treated to the qualities of the four houses, courtesy of Rubeus Hagrid (Gryffindor is good, Slytherin is bad, Hufflepuff is for duffers, and Ravenclaw is for geniuses).

"_Dumbledore himself can't show such a subjective view as what you've just pieced together. As headmaster he can't promote one house over the other. While Hagrid can, will, and shall do so without even realising that he is being used as an agent to indoctrinate a child._"

_Well, that sounds sinister_. Harry physically gulped.

"Yeh okay, Harry?" Hagrid asked him, seeing his expression change.

"What?" Harry squeaked, before making a deep sounding cough to make up for his high pitched noise from a moment ago. "I just need a drink or something."

"We'll get yeh something at the Leakey Cauldron," Hagrid said kindly. "We should be there soon enough," Hagrid looked up to one of the tube maps.

"Hagrid, why did we come by train if you want to be inconspicuous?" Harry asked, truly perplexed at their using one of the most crowded methods of transport in London while simultaneously urging him not to act out of the ordinary (said the eight foot six man, indeed).

"I already said, Harry, can't use you-know-what."

"Fair enough," Harry said, deciding that he wouldn't get any further in that line of enquiry. "Say, Hagrid? Would you be able to tell me anything else about my parents?" Harry put on his excited orphan face, eyes shining with hopefulness. Tom laughed at his blatant attempt at manipulation.

Hagrid, however, was more than happy to acquiesce to Harry's wishes. "Well, Harry, I didn't really know yer mum as well as yer dad. Now he was a right little trouble maker, always running amok with his friends…

…~oOo~…

By the time Harry reached the Leakey Cauldron, he had been regaled with stories of the greatest pranks of James Potter and his apparently nameless friends. Some of them sounded rather close to bullying to Harry's ears, a thought that had not pleased him in the slightest, but decided to put it from his mind so that his wits were about him for when he was finally revealed to have returned to the wizarding world.

"_Filthy as ever_," Tom said with a strange mixture of distaste and nostalgia as they stepped into the grotty little pub. All about him was the oddest assortment of people Harry had ever seen in his life (and this coming from a boy who had just met Hagrid less than 24 hours ago).

"The usual, Hagrid?" called the barkeep from across the room.

"Not t'day, Tom," Hagrid called loudly back, "Hogwarts business, I'm getting young Harry here his school things."

"_That absolute moron!_" Harry could practically hear his incorporeal friend doing a face-palm.

"Bess my soul, it's Harry Potter," gasped one of the people in the crowd.

_Oh shit._

"_Language, Harry._"

Before he could do anything but shoot a fearful glance up at Hagrid, Harry found himself being mobbed by just about everyone in the pub. Amidst the endless stream of names, handshakes and teary eyed thanks, Harry even managed to notice one person he'd met before.

"Hey, I remember you," Harry said to a small man in a purple top hat, "you bowed to me once."

"_Dedalus Diggle, another Dumbledore toady,_" Tom informed him succinctly.

_Never told me that the first time around._

"_You didn't know about Dumbledore then_," Tom reminded him, "_nor did you know what a toady was._"

"He remembers me!" the man shouted excitedly to the whole pub, "Did you hear that, Harry Potter remembers me!"

Eventually, Hagrid managed to pull him through to the other end of the pub, past the enraptured crowd and many returns of Doris Crockford until he was standing opposite a very timid looking man wearing a purple turban.

"Why, hello there, Professor!" Hagrid called out cheerily as they approached the man. "Harry, this is yer new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Quirrell."

"H-H-Harry P-P-Potter, so good t-to see you finally re- finally return t-to us," the man said, his prominent stutter catching Harry off guard, thankfully he didn't laugh in a most rude fashion.

"Thank you Professor," Harry returned with a smile, "I'm glad to be back where I belong." He said the last just loud enough for the many eavesdroppers to hear and be most satisfied with his answer (because of course, Harry Potter should be more than happy to be among his adoring public).

"_Well played_."

"Well it was nice to see yeh again, Professor," Hagrid said as he put his huge hand on Harry's shoulder, making it clear to all those around that swamp Harry time was well and truly over. "But we've got a lota things to pick up today."

"Of c-c-course, Hagrid," Professor Quirrell said with a nod before turning back to his drink.

Hagrid ushered Harry through the back door of the pub and towards a solid brick wall, talking about Hogwarts and Dumbledore while Harry only pretended to listen, secretly having a conversation with Tom.

"_I don't like the look of that Quirrell fellow,_" Tom told harry seriously.

_I'd expect that from Uncle Vernon, Tom, but not from you. What's wrong with someone wearing a turban?_

Tom laughed, "_It's not the turban, Harry, but the stutter._"

_That's no better than disliking someone for wearing a turban! I'm sure he can't help it._ Harry snapped back, indignant at Tom's sudden show of prejudice.

"_Ah, Harry, but that's just the thing,_" Tom said slyly, "_He _can_ help it. And that's why I don't trust him._"

_What do you mean he can help it? _Harry asked, trying to think back and find anything that seemed wrong with his stutter.

"_While his repetition of certain sounds was good, he missed out on several other aspects associated with stuttering_," Tom explained, "_namely, prolongations of sounds and abnormal stoppages._"

_I think I see where you're coming from_, Harry said, _but he only said a couple of sentences to us; are you sure he would have shown the other two aspects?_

"_With the level of affectation he was putting on; yes,_" Tom stated, "_Then take into account that he was face to face with _the_ Harry Potter, and he should have been a verbal wreck._"

Harry decided that he would go along with Tom for the time being and look out for any further evidence that Quirrell was faking his stutter while he was at Hogwarts. Turning his attention back to Hagrid, Harry saw that the huge man tapping some of the bricks on the wall with his pink umbrella.

Just as Harry was about to ask what he was doing, the man in question stepped back from the wall as the bricks moved to rearrange themselves, making an archway large enough for even Hagrid to walk through with room to spare.

"Welcome, Harry, to Diagon Alley," Hagrid said proudly.

…~oOo~…

**A.N.** I would like to point out that I am no expert on stuttering. What Tom said earlier in the chapter was informed by my reading up on some stuttering forums. If someone more knowledgeable picks up on any mistakes in what Tom says then please contact me so I can make any necessary amendments. Thanks.

I was originally going to include the rest of the Diagon Alley trip in this chapter, but decided that a faster update would be preferable. I hope your response proves me right ;D

Oh, and don't forget to leave me a **review** (preferred pairings, scenes you'd like to see, as well as what you think of the story so far would be nice)!

Thanks for reading,

Blddmn.


	3. Diagon Alley

**In My Head**

**Disclaimer:**

I neither own the rights to the Harry Potter franchise, nor do I make any money by writing this; it is a work of fanfiction.

**A quick note** about Professor Quirrell from the last chapter: Tom didn't notice Voldemort in Quirrell because he has not yet been possessed. In cannon Harry even shakes Quirrell's hand without causing any injury when they meet at the Leakey Cauldron. Therefore I'm taking creative licence to have Tom mistrust Quirrell but not know about his affiliation to the Dark Lord (at this point).

**A slightly longer note**, this time about wizarding fashion. I'm not going to use the idea of robes being a cloak thrown over whatever muggle clothes people are wearing (as seen in the films), but rather the idea that typical wizards dress in robes, cloaks, tunics, leggings, or any other sort of ye olde style clothes that you feel like attributing to them (I use Dumbledore and Narcissa Malfoy as my archetypes when imagining how wizards dress). The closest they get to trousers are leggings (which would be typically be worn by sporty young men in my imaginings) and things such as jeans are utterly unthinkable. I won't go into too much detail to spare you the tedium. For the rational for this view, I will point you to Snape's worst memory: James flips him upside down and everyone can see Snape's underpants, ergo, he was not wearing trousers (something that was not commented on by anyone and so is probably the norm), also, remember how wizards dressed at the Quidditch world cup, only between cultures in which dress codes are so quintessentially different from one another would such mistakes happen.

…~oOo~…

**Chapter Three**

Diagon Alley

Looking down at Diagon Alley (which Harry immediately decided was not an alleyway but a street), Harry was struck first and foremost by just how utterly _different_ everything looked here; as if he had literally stepped into a different world.

He hadn't noticed it so much in the Leakey Cauldron, partly because he had never set foot in a pub before and didn't know what to expect, and partly because he hadn't been able to take much in of his surroundings during his struggle to avoid being trampled by his many well-wishers while trying not to sound like a conceited little brat.

As such, he hadn't really picked up on the vast difference between this new wizarding world and the muggle world that he was used too. Now that he was standing back from all the excitement though, it hit him like a slap to the face.

The road that ran down the centre of the street was cobbled and was absolutely teeming with wizards; Harry had no doubt that this road had never had a car drive down it (something that seemed oddly shocking to Harry, given that cars were so prominent within muggle culture).

Next were the wizards themselves; they looked odd. That was just about the only way Harry could put it. Growing up in the same house as Vernon Dursley had acclimatised Harry towards seeing adults dressed in a certain way (the proper way, if Vernon had anything to say about it) and as such was utterly shocked to see grown men walking around in what appeared at first glance to be a myriad of different coloured dresses.

"_I had much the same reaction_," Tom said, thankfully understanding of Harry's thoughts. "_The idea of taking someone wearing a robe seriously took a while, but eventually I grew so fond of them that I stopped using muggle clothes all together._"

_But… why?_ Harry asked disbelievingly. Glancing across at Hagrid he saw the giant man smiling down at him, clearly mistaking Harry's open-mouthed expression for one of wonderment rather than shock.

"_Now, Harry, don't be so prejudiced_," Tom said reasonably, his voice holding an undertone of rebuke. "_As the saying goes 'don't knock it 'till you've tried it.'_"

Harry huffed slightly, not for one second thinking that he would enjoy wearing what was essentially a dress (Harry is an eleven year old boy, after all, and at such an age dressing like a _girl_ would be seen as the absolute pinnacle of wrongness). Turning to Hagrid, Harry decided that the best thing to do would be to just get on with it.

"So," he said, trying to inject a healthy dose of levity into his voice, "Where are we off to first?"

Hagrid chuckled and clapped Harry on the back with one of his meaty hands. "That'd be Gringotts, of course," Hagrid said happily, apparently pleased at Harry's eagerness to get a closer look at his new world.

"Excellent," Harry said with a smile, "What's Gringotts?"

"Oh right, I forgot yeh don't know," Hagrid actually seemed to blush slightly in embarrassment. He then motioned for Harry to start walking along with him, answering Harry's question as they walked through the bustling crowds.

"Gringotts is the bank that wizards use to store their money," Hagrid explained. _Surely he doesn't mean there's only the one?_ Harry thought to himself.

"'Though, some of the older families have larger vaults that they use to store valuable items they don't want to risk the wrong people claiming through inheritance," Hagrid explained further. "And of course, the whole thing is run by the Goblins,"

"There are Goblins?" Harry asked, once again shocked. All this time, astrologists and their ilk had been searching the stars for other forms of sentient life, while all along there was another race hidden right beneath their noses.

"'Course there are Goblins, Harry," Hagrid said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Devilishly clever, Goblins, and not the most friendly of beasts; Never mess with a Goblin, Harry."

"Noted," Harry said. His curiosity was stemmed for a moment as he realised something that was probably very important, "Hagrid, does that mean that the Goblins have control over the wizard's money?"

Hagrid looked uncomfortable for a moment, leading Harry to believe that Goblins were not that well thought of by wizards (Tom confirmed this just before Hagrid answered).

"In a manner of speakin'," he said, "They don't control the economy an' such, more just look after the gold and make sure that any non-magic money is kept out of the wizarding world."

"Why don't wizards do that themselves?" Harry asked, it seemed like a terribly silly way of looking after their money to him; why leave their money with a race they clearly distrusted?

"_Because wizards, on the whole, are very lazy and will choose the simplest solution to a problem_," Tom said knowledgably.

"B'cus the Goblins looking after the gold means there won't be any more wars between wizards an' Goblins," Hagrid explained. "We don't attack them because they have our gold, and they don't attack us because they know they don' have the magic to win a full scale war."

"_Not that a lot of wizards are happy about it_." Tom added.

Deciding that this whole situation was both too complicated for him to have a good understanding of and that it was pointless to get worked up about it anyway, Harry prepared himself for the excitement of meeting an entirely new species.

When they finally reached the marble steps that led up to the doors to Gringotts, Harry saw that goblins were in fact a rather short, violent looking race. The two Goblins standing at the burnished bronze doors were dressed in what appeared to be decorative plate armour, complete with a detailed gold filigree design and gleaming gemstones.

Each Goblin clutched a halberd that looked to be at least twice their size in their armoured hands, and on their hips they each wore a short-sword. The Goblins cut an impressive figure despite their diminutive height, and each wore an expression of complete indifference, yet somehow made it look menacing. Harry would bet his Hogwarts letter that these Goblins were more than capable of cutting down any wizard foolish enough to cross them.

Making sure not to stare (too much) at them as he passed through the doors, Harry soon found himself in a roomy entrance hall. At the end of the hall stood another set of doors, these ones set in silver with words carved into them.

_Enter stranger but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed_

_For those who take but do not earn_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours_

_Thief you have been warned beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

Harry couldn't help but gulp slightly at those words; he had often had to steel food from the Dursleys to stave off the worst effects of the frequent starvation his relatives put him through. The unbidden thought that maybe Goblins would call him thief and lock him away forever flashed through his mind.

"_Don't worry, Harry,_" Tom reassured him, "_There is nothing to fear from the Goblins, provided you are careful with what you say and do_."

_That you had to qualify your statement doesn't fill me with confidence_, Harry shot back snappily.

"_Just don't insult them and you'll be fine_," Tom reassured, completely ignoring Harry's acerbic response.

Going through the silver doors, he now found himself standing in a large hall; like the rest of Gringotts he had seen so far, it was decorated with beautiful filigree patters in various shinning metals along with gleaming gemstones that adorned the walls, and the chandelier was made of clear, sparkling diamonds. Spaced out all around the room were various bank tellers (who were all dressed in smart pinstripe suits), all of which seemed to have a queue of at least five people.

_Don't you think it's odd that all the customers at a Goblin bank are wizards?_ Harry asked Tom as he and Hagrid made their way to one of the tellers at the back.

"_This is how it's always been at Gringotts,_" Tom told him, "_I'm fairly certain that the Goblins have a different branch of the organisation deal with their own assets, monetary or otherwise._"

_And why aren't there any Goblin women?_ Harry continued his questioning (there was nothing better to do while he stood in line with Hagrid to see the teller. The giant in question was currently checking through his pockets for something or another).

"_For all you know these could all be Goblin women_," Tom replied with a sense of levity, "_although I'm fairly certain that is the case._"

_Is it a cultural thing? Or do they not have Goblin women? Maybe they're spawned like they are in that Lord of the Rings book you made me read_, Harry continued.

"_I would avoid asking them, if I were you,_" Tom said, this time more seriously. "_And I still haven't forgiven you for giving up half way through Two Towers_."

_But that Treebeard chapter was too dull for me to read_! Harry protested. He had tried to do get through it, but there was only so much you could expect from a seven year old who would rather practice the spell he had been shown for his birthday.

"_Honestly, children these days_," Tom said snootily.

The line in front of them finally cleared and Harry and Hagrid walked up to a tall desk, behind which sat a most indifferent looking Goblin. Harry was starting to suspect they practiced looking so utterly uninterested in such an imposing way.

"Yes?" the teller drawled as he glanced over them.

"We've come to make a withdrawal," Hagrid said somewhat gruffly, having to clear his throat. "Young Mr. Potter here needs funds for his school supplies."

The Goblin's beady eyes honed in on Harry, their piercing quality making Harry gulp as they made eye contact.

"And does 'young Mr. Potter' have his key?" the Goblin asked, though who exactly the question was aimed at, Harry couldn't tell.

"Right here," Hagrid said as he put a key down on the desk.

Harry felt a sudden indignant urge to challenge Hagrid as to why _he _was in possession of a key that apparently belonged to Harry. He had picked up on the fact that the Goblin had said it was _his_ key; therefore the key was not for one of the Hogwarts vaults.

"_Very astute, Harry_," Tom lauded, "_But don't mention it until your away from any potential eaves droppers, and make sure to be careful about how you question him about it. It wouldn't do for word to get back to Dumbledore that you didn't like that he had control of your key._"

"An' there's something else," Hagrid whispered conspiratorially to the Goblin while leaning in to hand him a letter. "It's about you-know-what, in vault you-know-which."

"Very well," the Goblin said shortly before beckoning another Goblin to join them. The new Goblin was dressed in a similar fashion to the teller, rather than the armoured warriors outside. "Griphook will see to your requests," the Goblin teller dismissed them.

Following Griphook through yet another set of large doors (gold this time) Harry found himself on a ledge looking out over a huge stone chasm. It appeared that the majority of Gringotts was housed in a giant series of underground caverns, tunnels and vaults. Alongside the ledge they were standing on lay what seemed to be a rail track.

"The cart has been summoned," Griphook informed them shortly, "it will be here soon."

_How do you know it's Dumbledore who had the key?_ Harry asked Tom as he settled in to wait for the cart.

"_Hagrid is Dumbledore's man through and through,_" Tom told Harry, "_As we deduced earlier, he is here to ingratiate you to the headmaster in a way that Dumbledore himself cannot. I believe Dumbledore took control of the key and kept it for 'safe keeping' after your parent's deaths_."

_You didn't answer my question,_ Harry pointed out.

"_Should I really have to?_" was the Socratic question Tom used in lieu of an actual answer.

Harry had just manage to shoot off a few rude words when a screeching sound alerted him to the cart arriving (it was similar to the horrible sound of squeaky breaks being applied to a fast moving train). The cart itself was set up to seat up to four people excluding the Goblin driver. However, given Hagrid's immense bulk; it would probably only just fit the two of them.

Climbing into the cart, Harry only had a moment to notice that he hadn't experienced any form of vertigo from being suspended above a several hundred foot drop before the cart lurched into motion at a speed so fast that Harry was sure he had left his stomach back by the ledge.

Harry looked about in delight as they hurtled along the tracks. Next to him it appeared like Hagrid might well be sick at any second, but Harry was just too caught up in the moment to feel concerned.

All too soon though (for Harry, at any rate) they found themselves screeching to a halt alongside another ledge. Climbing out of the cart, Harry saw that wall of this part of the cavern was lined with large, dark iron doors, each of which was numbered.

"Vault six hundred and eighty seven," Griphook said imperiously as he slotted the golden key Hagrid had handed over earlier into one of many keyholes. He then ran his finger down the centre of the door. Harry heard the unlatching of various locks just before the hinges cringed and the large door swung open.

He couldn't help but let his jaw drop open in shock at what he saw inside the vault. Heaped in small piles were stacks of gold, silver and bronze coins. It was more money than Harry had ever seen in his life.

"_Harry, get your mouth of the floor, you're getting drool on the carpet,_" Tom joked.

Harry snapped his jaw shut and glanced down (and subsequently noticed that there was in fact _no_ carpet) in embarrassment of letting his shock show itself so plainly through his actions.

"Welcome to your trust vault, Mr. Potter," Griphook said dispassionately.

"Is all of this mine?" Harry asked in wonderment, ignoring Tom's sudden cry for Harry to listen to something he wanted to say. At the Goblin's nod, Harry asked another question, "How much is there?"

"Enough to see you through seven years tuition at Hogwarts, including high quality school supplies. After that there should still be enough to ensure you are able to live comfortably for a few years after Hogwarts unless you get into a habit of frivolous spending," the Goblin informed him, still sounding completely unconcerned. "However if you desire a full audit, then you will have to take it up with your account manager."

"Who's that?" Harry asked, still ignoring Tom in favour of finding out about the money now in his possession.

"Do I look like a Gringotts directory to you, Mr. Potter?" Griphook asked, his voice gaining a sneering quality. When Harry shook his head and went to answer the Goblin held up a hand, stopping him from speaking. "That was rhetorical. If you want to know who your account manager is, I suggest finding out for yourself."

Harry just stared at the Goblin for a moment. _Honestly, do they treat all their customers like this?_

"_Yes! Now be quiet!_" Harry nearly jumped when Tom shouted inside his head. "_What did the Goblin say about your vault, Harry? This is important._"

_That it has enough money for me to get through Hogwarts?_

"_Before then._"

_The vault number?_ Harry really didn't know where Tom was going with this.

"_No not that_," Tom replied with an exasperated sigh. "_He said this is your _trust _vault, Harry. Do you know what that means?_"

_Not the foggiest,_ Harry told him honestly.

"_It means that this isn't the main Potter Vault!_" Tom cried excitedly, "_Harry, you need to find out about that other vault. You never know what sort of interesting things a pureblood house could have in the family vault._"

Deciding to ask if Griphook knew anything about this other vault Tom was talking about, Harry turned back to speak to the Goblin, only to find that he had moved over to where Hagrid was leaning against a stone pillar. The huge man was very pale and looked as if he was just about holding in the urge to vomit.

_Damn I need to stop zoning out when I talk to you_, Harry muttered to Tom as he moved over to the two.

"Griphook," Harry started, "you said earlier that this is my trust vault. Does that mean there is another Potter vault somewhere?"

The Goblin looked him over appraisingly, "Indeed there is, Mr. Potter. However you won't be able to access the Potter family vault until you reach your majority at age seventeen."

"Why is that?" Harry asked, somewhat confused about how the process works.

"All of the major pureblood families have a family vault; this is their main vault which is used to hold the majority of their assets within Gringotts. This vault can only be accessed by the head of the family or their appointed executor," Griphook explained, his demeanour had changed slightly however and he was now eyeing Harry with a look of mild interest.

"Harry doesn't need to worry about all that right now," Hagrid put in from where he was leaning against the stone pillar.

"The boy asked," Griphook snapped back, "And as the Heir to the Noble house of Potter, he is expected to understand the workings of his estate."

"_Reassure Hagrid,_" Tom told him quickly.

"It's ok, Hagrid," Harry followed Tom's instruction and smiled at the huge man, "I'm sure I can handle it, I've had to watch out for myself for years. Thanks for trying to look out for my best interests though, I've never had anyone care before."

Hagrid looked uncertain for a moment before giving Harry a slight smile in return and giving him a nod of accent.

"_Well played,_" Tom praised him, "_I have a feeling that somehow you not knowing about your assets is somehow important to Dumbledore. Although, for the life of me, I can't think of a reason he would want to keep it from you._"

Filing this away to think on later, Harry turned back to Griphook, "So where do I and the trust vault fit in?"

"Trust vaults are set up for personal use by family members that are neither the head of the family nor an executor," the Goblin said. "You, as the heir to the Potter line, will gain access to the Potter family vault on your seventeenth birthday, upon which you will be able to take up the Potter ancestral seal on the Wizengamot."

"What's that?" Harry asked at the same time as Tom made some sort of spluttering noise.

The Goblin arched a brow at him, "The Wizengamot is the judicial and legislative branch of the Ministry of Magic. The vote of house Potter is currently being held in proxy by Albus Dumbledore."

"_Aha! That conniving old fiend,_" Tom cried triumphantly. Harry glanced over at Hagrid, looking for confirmation, receiving it from Hagrid's anxious expression and nervous shuffling.

"Well that's good," Harry said to Griphook, although using his peripheral vision to keep an eye on Hagrid, "I think I can trust Professor Dumbledore to do what is right." Tom laughed at that.

That seemed to cheer Hagrid up immensely, although Griphook scowled at his announcement.

"Well now you know that; go get some gold so we can move onto our next stop," the Goblin said shortly.

Harry, not needing to be told twice, hurried into the vault and stuffed a small pile of gold coins into a bag that had appeared in his hand as he had crossed the threshold. He followed this up by adding a handful of silver coins before hurrying out to meet back up with Hagrid and Griphook.

Soon enough they found themselves once again hurtling along in the Gringotts cart, going further down into the depths of the great cavern. Screeching once more to a stop, they disembarked and approached another dark iron door, this one with the number seven hundred and thirteen above the door. This time Griphook said a phrase in some language Harry had never heard before and passed his finger down the centre of the door.

"If anyone but a Gringotts Goblin tried that, they'd be sucked into the room," Griphook said with a wicked smile as the door opened.

"And how often do you check for prisoners?" Harry asked curiously.

"Once every ten years."

"Well that's a cheery thought," Harry quipped.

The only contents of the vault was a single grubby looking package which Hagrid immediately picked up and stuffed into one of the many pockets on his vast overcoat.

"Best that yeh don't mention this to anyone Harry," Hagrid informed him solemnly, "Official Hogwarts business, yeh know?"

"I understand, Hagrid," Harry whispered conspiratorially.

"_I wonder what was in that package,_" Tom said with a keen interest, "_there's a scheme afoot here, I just know it._"

_What do you mean by that?_ Harry queried as they once more climbed into the cart, this time being hurtled in the direction of the ledge that lead back into the surface part of the bank.

"_That Dumbledore had Hagrid pick up that package on the same day as he collected you simply screams out that some sort of game is being played_," Tom told him, "_the thing we must worry about are who are the players, and what part you have in it all._"

_Why do I need to be part of it at all?_ Harry asked as he tried to remember the difference between stalagmites and stalactites.

"_Now that _is_ the question of the hour, isn't it?_" Tom asked rhetorically, "_Oh, and stalactites point down, stalagmites up._"

…~oOo~…

After leaving Gringotts, Harry and Hagrid began the task of gathering all of Harry's school equipment. They started off by going to the apothecary and picking up a cauldron, a potions knife, set of scales, set of vials, and a standard set of potions ingredients. Dumping all their purchases into Harry's new cauldron, they headed out to get Harry a trunk, Hagrid volunteering to carry the Cauldron.

Inside the trunk shop they picked up a fairly expensive trunk which included a featherweight and undetectable expansion charm which made it large enough to store the cauldron. Harry also purchased a bag with a featherweight charm on it to carry books between classes at Toms urging.

Leaving the trunk shop, Harry and Hagrid parted ways (Hagrid said he needed a drink to deal with the whole Gringotts cart experience) at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.

"_I can't believe he would just leave you unattended so he could go grab a pint,_" Tom said in disbelief as they entered the shop.

"Hogwarts robes?" a woman said before Harry was able to respond to Tom, "Just through here," she continued before ushering Harry into another room.

In the room there was a blond boy standing on a stool and being measured by a shop assistant who seemed to be measuring him in all sorts of odd places (even the length of his fingers and distance between knuckles). The boy was wearing a fairly tight fitting black tunic and leggings, while a pile of robes was lying folded on a bench behind him.

Harry got up on a stool next to the boy and another shop assistant moved in to start taking his measurements (thankfully not doing the more odd ones like finger lengths).

"Are you going to Hogwarts too?" the boy asked without looking across at Harry, his voice drawled in a way that Harry could only describe as snobbish.

"Umm, yeah," Harry answered, eyeing a signet ring on the boy's right ring finger.

"_That's the crest of House Malfoy_," Tom informed him, "_I'd bet your trust vault that this boy is as spoiled as Dudley_."

"First year?" The boy pressed, still not glancing at Harry.

"Yeah," Harry answered, not liking how rude the boy was being by not even looking at him while speaking.

"_You technically outrank him; house Malfoy isn't as old as house Potter,_" Tom continued, "_Although his family is probably the richest in wizarding Britain_."

"Do you know what house you'll be in?" the boy asked before continuing, cutting off any response from Harry, "I'll be in Slytherin, of course, my whole family has been in Slytherin for generation. The name's Malfoy, by the way, Draco Malfoy."

"Nice to meet you, Draco," Harry deadpanned, "and of course I don't know what house I'll be in, we've yet to be sorted."

"I suppose that's true," Draco admitted, "I take it your parents were our kind if you know about the sorting. Father says Hogwarts shouldn't let the other kind in, you know."

"If you mean 'were they magical' then yes, they were," Harry answered, not liking the bigotry the boy seemed so comfortable expressing in a public setting to someone he didn't even know.

"Good," Draco said, "I don't think I'll ever understand why they allow Mudbloods into Hogwarts, it's degrading for us proper wizards."

One of the shop assistants gasped in shock at this, while the other winced and told the boy that she was done measuring him, and ushered him off the stool.

"I'll see you at Hogwarts," the boy said uncaringly as he walked past Harry, affording him only a passing glance.

"I'm terribly sorry about you having to hear such language, Mr…?" the assistant measuring him said once the Malfoy boy had gone.

"Potter, Harry Potter," Harry answered, trying to figure out what was so offensive about the term 'mudblood.'

"Oh my!" she jumped up in shock, dropping the measuring tape as her wide eyes flicked up to his forehead. Noticing his scar only partially covered by his messy hair, she clutched her hand over her chest, "Is it really… well are you really _the _Harry Potter?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry, unable to resist the opportunity to further fluster the assistant put on the most suave smile his eleven year old visage was capable of and said, "In the flesh."

"Oh my!" the assistant repeated before falling back in a dead faint.

"_Well that was odd_," Tom summed up the situation as the assistant who had been dealing with Draco rushed into the room and revived her friend with a wave of her wand.

"What on earth happened?" the new arrival asked the woman on the floor.

"He's Harry Potter!" was the squealed reply.

_Oh boy…_

Before Harry had time to blink he was being swamped by people who had heard those words. As word spread more and more people began piling into the robes shop and Harry was fighting the urge to run away from all the hands he was shaking.

He had just noticed that the woman from the Leakey Cauldron, Doris Crockford, had managed to force her way to the front of the pileup around him when Hagrid's booming voice rang out over the crowd.

"Make way! Make way!" He bellowed as he waded through the sea of people, "Official Hogwarts business."

"Hagrid!" Harry shouted out in genuine relief as the giant man approached.

"Off yeh go, everyone," Hagrid bellowed some more, "nothing to see here, give the boy some room."

With Hagrid acting as a shield between him and his adoring public, Harry was able to pay Madam Malkin for the clothes (three sets of school robes, one set of casual robes, three summer tunics, three winter tunics, three sets of leggings, and a winter cloak) that had mysteriously made their way into his arms through the crowd of rabid fans.

"Can't leave yeh alone for five minutes, it seems," Hagrid said amusedly once he had chased off the last of the gawkers. "I got yeh a birthday present, but I had to leave it outside with all the commotion in the shop."

Harry, never having received a birthday present from anyone other than Tom before, was left speechless by that one little gesture. Hagrid had _already_ given him a cake and taken away from the Dursleys, yet he had _still_ brought Harry something else. Such kindness is enough to baffle the mind.

He and Hagrid went outside to see a beautiful snowy owl looking up at them from where Hagrid had left her in her cage just outside the shop. With a bark of mild indignation at being left outside, the owl ruffled its feathers and looked disapprovingly up at Harry with big amber eyes.

"Wow, Hagrid," Harry said breathlessly, "thank you so much!"

"I thought yeh'd like her," Hagrid said happily, "dead useful, owls. You can use 'em to carry yer mail if yeh want."

"I… just… wow," Harry said, still caught in the shock of the moment.

"_Stop gawking, Harry,_" Tom scolded, utterly tired of Harry's complete lack of decorum (decorum being a gracious response followed by mild indifference, at least until the boy was alone and such silly fawning could be tolerated). "_You don't want to give him the idea that you are somehow in his debt_."

Harry managed to prevent making a complete fool of himself by giving Hagrid a heartfelt hug (much to the displeasure of Tom) then picking up the owl in her cage. _I _am _in his debt_, Harry thought earnestly, _Hagrid's been so kind to me when he really didn't need to. And to get me an owl!_

"_Nonsense!_" Tom said sharply, snapping Harry from his musings on his new pet, "_The friendship of Hagrid may be all well and good, Harry. But one must not forget that behind Hagrid lurks Albus Dumbledore. We still don't know what his game is and as such you would do well not to find yourself indebted to one of his lackeys._"

"Well, we best be off now," Hagrid said with a smile, his day made at the show of affection from Harry, "plenty more to do before the day is done. Flourish & Blotts next I think."

_The way you say 'lackeys' makes it all sound like some sort of a mob,_ Harry joked at Tom as they walked towards the book store.

"_He heads a secret society that –back in the day- he liked to have spy on the Ministry and act as vigilantes. Very mob like, if I may say so,_" Tom said drolly.

_Stop your whinging_; Harry retorted good naturedly as they entered the shop. Harry was happy to marvel at the shelves upon shelves of tomes that surrounded him, promising an entire world of learning at his fingertips.

Soon enough though they were leaving the book store, having purchased Harry's school books and nothing else (Tom had assured him that he was far more knowledgeable than any book of petty hexes Harry could possibly buy).

Outside, however, was a veritable throng of people, all clamouring and staring up at him in a most alarming fashion. Harry, taken completely by surprise, felt his body freeze as he started to panic, so many people staring up at him…

"Mr. Potter," a woman's voice from the front of the crowd called, Harry's eyes zeroed in on her. "Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet. If you don't mind my asking, Mr. Potter, where have you been all these long years? What are your thoughts, having just returned to the wizarding world? What do-"

Harry couldn't hear her, he could now feel himself slipping. He had never liked being the centre of attention. The Dursley's had saw to that well enough. It had only been the presence and timely interventions of Hagrid that had kept him from breaking down at the Leakey Cauldron, or in Madam Malkins.

Here though, even Hagrid could not help him. Here were people who wanted to take his words and share them with the world, share _him_ with the world, and in doing so ruin the nice feeling of safety that had always come with being unnoticed.

Then, just when he thought all was lost and he would surly pass out from fright, Tom stepped in.

Harry felt his body instantly take on a more confident stance, his chin lifted and a smile gracing his lips. Tom would look after him, like he always did when Harry was too far gone to look after himself.

"Ms. Skeeter, was it?" he said suavely, "Of course, I would be delighted to give you a full interview about all the things you have just mentioned; but alas time is short for today and I, as you so rightly said, have only just returned to wizarding society. Maybe it would be better if we postponed any official statements until I have had more time to acclimatize myself to all the wonders around me."

"Of course, Mr. Potter, but-" Rita started.

"I shall contact you personally once I have settled in at Hogwarts," Tom spoke over her, his clear voice keeping the crowd's attention, "until then, I must away. Business to attend to before the day is out, you see," he then raised his voice further making it clear he was addressing the whole crowd, "Until then, know that I am grateful for your kind words and support. I shall never forget the kindness that has been shown to me this day."

With that, he beckoned to Hagrid and the two of them headed over to the ice cream shop to settle any nerves that had been frayed by the whole exchange. As always, Harry regained control of himself as his nerves calmed, Tom casually relinquishing control of his body.

Harry let out a sigh of relief. They only had one more stop to make today, and then he could put all the crowds, handshakes and incessant well-wishers aside… for now at least.

…~oOo~…

After finishing their ice creams, Harry and Hagrid headed off towards Ollivanders, the wand maker's shop that had stood for longer than anyone could remember. They walked into the dusty old shop, which was conspicuously empty. Standing in front of the counter, Harry cleared his throat (loudly) twice to no avail.

"Mr. Ollivander?" Harry called, shooting a half-hearted glare at Hagrid as he leaned unhelpfully against the wall, an amused grin gracing his face.

"Where on earth could he-"

"I was wondering when I would see you, Mr. Potter," a cracked old voice said behind him, scarily close.

Harry shrieked in a most undignified manner and about faced, coming eye to eye with an elderly man with a mane of white hair and watery silver eyes.

_Why didn't you tell me?_ Harry hissed in anger over Tom's laughter, his eyes still locked on those of the aging wand maker.

"_Because _that_ was too funny for words,_" Tom chuckled, "_I'm sure I haven't heard you shriek so girlishly in years_."

"It seems like only yesterday that your mother and father were in here buying their first wands," Olivander started talking. Despite his initial interest in wands, Harry soon discovered that the subject held no more interest for him than the fact that having a wand would let him have greater control of his magic.

Sure, it was nice to hear little titbits of information about his parents, but knowing that his mother favoured charms while his father was more for transfiguration didn't really tell him much about them as people.

Soon enough, Harry was waving wands about (to varying degrees of disaster) and getting rather frustrated that he couldn't seem to match with any of the wands he'd handled so far.

Tom, of course, was no help in this situation. In fact, he seemed to view the entire thing in a very positive light, something about how they were removing all possibility of Harry being destined for a _plebeian_ wand. This was apparently good because having a pauper's wand as, Tom put it (despite having little to no knowledge himself of wand lore) otherwise people would judge him to be remiss of character or some such rot.

"I wonder…" Ollivander trailed off uncertainly, shooting a cautious glance at Harry.

"_This promises to be interesting_," Tom said speculatively.

Soon enough, Ollivander emerged from the rows of wands in boxes with a rather long and elegant (to Harry's eyes at least) looking wand.

Harry took the wand from the old man's hand, a pleasant shiver shooting up his arm as he clasped the wand in his grasp. Swishing the wand out in front of him caused the air about him to shimmer, as if he were standing in some sort of mirage.

"Oho! Yeh've done it, Harry my lad!" Hagrid called happily from his position by the wall. Harry turned and grinned happily up at him, more than ready to purchase the wand and go learn some proper magic.

"Curious," Ollivander said, in a voice that promised to both fulfil Tom's own interest, and utterly ruin Harry's day in some way, shape or form. Gulping nervously, Harry decided he might as well get on with it.

"What's curious?" he asked in a half resigned way. Ollivander gave him a very shrewd glance.

"The phoenix, whose tail feather resides in this wand, gave another feather. Just one other," Ollivander said seriously.

"_Lord Nelson's trousers_!" Tom exclaimed in abject horror.

"It is curious that you should be destined for this wand," Ollivander continued, "when it's brother gave you that scar."

"Voldemort," Harry whispered in realisation, causing both Ollivander and Hagrid to flinch (the latter actually taking a little gasp of fright).

"We do not speak his name," Ollivander muttered reproachfully, then carried on a little louder, eager to move the conversation away from the dreaded name, "The wand chooses the wizard Mr. Potter, it is not always clear why. But, I think it is clear, that we can expect great things from you."

At Harry's somewhat confused glance Ollivander deigned to explain further. "He who must not be named did great things, Mr. Potter. Terrible! Yes, but great."

"I don't hold the murder of entire families as my definition of 'great', Mr. Ollivander," Harry said with no slight amount of distain.

"Indeed, you are right," the man nodded sorrowfully, "but to become a true Dark Lord would require him to delve into far more depraved magics than the slaughter of innocents, although I'm sure that helped him in its own wretched way. No, Harry Potter, to think of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named as nothing more than a brute and a murderer was the last mistake of many a mighty wizard. For He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named performed magics that none other could or would. Terrible; yes, but great."

They stood there in silence for a good while longer, the heavy atmosphere weighing oppressively down upon all occupants of the room. For those short few moments, Harry could understand what it was live under the fear of Lord Voldemort. For as Ollivander had spoken of the Dark Lord's power, Harry had come to a realisation about the meaning behind his new wand being related to Voldemort's.

He was tied to Lord Voldemort. Tom had taught him not to believe in coincidence, and if there was one thing that Harry had been forced to accept by today, it was that fate had some role for him to play in things to come.

…~oOo~…

**A.N.** A rather long chapter there (by my standards at least). I found writing some of it rather odious, mainly because I'd rather just get on to the good stuff *cough*_sorting_*cough* rather than linger on the Diagon Alley scene. However it had to be included.

The various crowd scenes happen because, let's be honest, Hagrid and Harry are in _no way_ inconspicuous. That the adoring public wouldn't swarm their saviour given the chance just doesn't sit well with me, hence those awkward encounters for Harry.

Please leave a **review** telling me your thoughts on the chapter (loved it, hated it, anything in between. That sort of thing).

Thanks for reading,

Blddmn.


	4. Are you sure that's a real spell?

**In My Head**

**Disclaimer:**

I neither own the rights to the Harry Potter franchise, nor do I make any money by writing this; it is a work of fanfiction.

**A quick note** on spells. If you don't recognise the incantation then I made it up. Don't read too much into it, I just looked up some Latin translations online (nothing too difficult). I generally prefer to just say the effect of the spell (eg. Blasting curse) rather than the incantation as it can slow down the action (especially in fight scenes). The problem with having young wizards is they can't cast non-verbally. Oh well…

…~oOo~…

**Chapter Four**

"Are you sure that's a real spell?"

The first of September saw Harry watching with slight bemusement as the Dursleys pulled away from Kings Cross station, each of them laughing uproariously as if they had played some devilishly clever joke on him.

"_Honestly, I've known for the past ten years that your aunt was a spiteful old shrew,_" Tom grumbled as Harry turned to push his trolley into the train station, "_But to not even tell you how to get onto the platform; outrageous!_"

_Were you honestly expecting her to_? Harry queried as he headed towards platforms nine and ten. He was surprised to see that very few people actually paid him the slightest bit of notice. Occasionally someone would glance inquisitively at his owl, Hedwig. Harry had picked her name from his history book, much to Tom's consternation (as far as Harry was concerned Nagini was just as, if not more of a stupid name for an owl. Besides, she belonged to Harry so he got to name her).

"_Not really_," Tom admitted, "_it simply once again affirms my belief that she is a wretched human being. I mean, she _must_ have gone on to the platform with your mother at some point._"

_Well it's a good thing I have you with me then, isn't it_, Harry said smugly just as they stepped onto platform nine.

"_Indeed_," Tom replied drolly. "_It really is nice to know that I've been reduced to an eleven year old's magical encyclopaedia_."

_Don't lie,_ Harry chuckled at him, _you like showing off how much of a big head you are._

"_What was that?_"

_I said you enjoy demonstrating your superior knowledge_, Harry replied in as innocent a voice as he could manage.

"_Not what you said, I heard your rudeness perfectly well the first time,_" Tom scolded. "_I meant the group of people dressed in full wizarding regalia coming down platform ten._"

Harry span around to see, sure enough, a group of people all dressed in some sort of robes and tunic combination marching down platform ten. The group consisted of four boys of varying ages, a young girl, and an older woman (presumably the mother). The whole lot of them had red hair and rather tatty looking robes.

"Come on now, you lot," the woman said just loud enough to be overheard by Harry as she drew level with him, "platform nine and three quarters this way."

_Well they're clearly not muggleborns_, Harry said to Tom as he attached himself to the end of their group. _Why on earth would they be walking through the muggle section of the train station dressed like that?_

"_I think the more pertinent question is why she felt the need to draw attention to the fact they are heading towards platform nine and three quarters,_" Tom mused."_Possible violations of the statute of secrecy aside, her children clearly already know where it is. The oldest one must be in a least fourth year already._"

In no time at all, Harry found himself standing just slightly behind the group of redheads as they surrounded section of wall that acted as a barrier between platforms nine and ten. It was at this point that the young girl started kicking up a fuss.

"Mom, can't I go too?" She asked pleadingly.

"You're not old enough yet, Ginny," the mother said in a voice that seemed to be weary of being asked the same question repeatedly. She then turned to the oldest boy in the group, "Alright, Percy, you go first."

The boy then promptly marched straight towards the barrier between platforms nine and ten trolley first. At the exact point where he should have crashed into the wall, however, he vanished completely from sight.

_Magic, I presume?_ Harry queried as the woman repeated the process with the next two boys, identical twins apparently called Fred and George.

"_Your mastery of the obvious astounds even me, Harry_," Tom said sarcastically, "_the trick is knowing the gateway is there. Beyond that, there isn't much to it._"

With only the youngest boy, the girl and their mother left in front of him, Harry was perfectly comfortable to just stand back and wait his turn. It was at that point though, that the woman suddenly turned around and smiled at him.

"Oh, hello there, dear," she said with seemingly mild surprise, "your first time to Hogwarts? Ron's new too. I suppose you need help getting onto the platform?"

Harry, not liking people suddenly noticing him at the best of times -and mistrustful of most adults to boot- didn't at all like the way the woman _suddenly_ noticed him and figured out that he was a first year as well as assuming that he didn't know how to get onto the platform.

"_Curious_," Tom muttered.

"Umm, yeah," Harry said guardedly.

"Not to worry, dear," she said with a comforting smile, apparently mistaking Harry's wariness for nervousness. "You just need to walk right at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be frightened, that's very important. Best you do it at a little run if you're nervous. Go on now, before Ron."

Deciding that he may as well get it over with, Harry did just as the woman said and jogged straight through the barrier. Where at one point it seemed he was about to hit a solid wall, he suddenly found himself walking out onto a completely different platform.

Milling all about him were entire families of people dressed as wizards. It was as if he had stepped into a completely different world. In the centre of it all was a bright scarlet steam train, which Harry was sure was one of, if not the most technologically advanced piece of machinery in wizarding Britain.

A few moments later, the young boy named Ron came through the barrier closely followed by his mother and sister. Harry thanked the woman for her help (a rule of Harry's was to never give an adult a reason to think badly of him) and moved off in the direction of the train while the woman and her family regrouped. Harry decided to ignore their conversation in favour of finding a compartment on the train.

Putting his years of trying to avoid detection to good use, Harry ducked his head and pushed made his way through the bustling crowd, all the while on the lookout for an empty compartment. Soon enough he had found one and safely stowed Hedwig inside, now he just had to move his featherweight charmed trunk in as well.

"Need a hand there?" a voice called from right next to him. Spinning around he saw one of the redheaded twins standing right behind him.

"This trunk looks heavy enough to snap a weedy thing like you in half," said another voice, once again behind him. Twisting once more, Harry saw the other twin looking down at his trunk.

"It's got a featherweight charm on it," Harry said, bending down and picking up his trunk with ease, just to prove his point.

The second twin's eyes suddenly flicked over Harry's now upturned face, his eyes widening in shock as his gaze landed on the distinctive scar.

"Merlin's hairy scrotum!" he exclaimed in shock, before dropping his voice to a whisper. "You're Harry Potter."

"And your Fred or George," Harry deadpanned before turning slightly to the other astounded twin, "Making you George or Fred."

The twins just stared at him in shock for a few moments longer before a call from their mother snapped them from their stupors and had them dashing out of the train to tell their family about who they had just met.

Harry decided that now would be a prime time to settle down in the still empty compartment. Standing up on the seats he was easily able to shove him trunk into place before he opened up the charmed backpack he had purchased in Diagon Alley and pulled out his potions text for a bit of light reading.

A few minutes later a whistle sounded and there was a rush outside as students said their goodbyes to their parents and boarded the train.

To Harry's relief, most people who looked into his compartment decided to move on upon seeing that it was already occupied. That changed, however, when the young redhead boy he had seen earlier (Ron, if he remembered correctly) entered the compartment.

"Mind if I sit here?" he asked, "everywhere else is full."

"Feel free," Harry gave his permission, glancing up from his book as the boy sat down. During the few moments Harry's head wasn't obscured by the book, the boy's eyes latched onto the scar on Harry's forehead.

"Your Harry Potter!" he blurted excitedly, leaning forward in his seat to get a better look.

"Indeed I am," Harry said irritably. _Honestly, these people have no manners!_

"I thought it might have been one of Fred and George's jokes at first," the boy rambled on, oblivious to his having annoyed Harry, "but it's really you! I mean, you even have the scar. Is that where You-Know-Who… you know?"

"_How utterly insensitive_!" Tom exclaimed with indignation.

"I'd rather not talk about it," Harry said with a note of finality. Ron thankfully dropped that line of inquiry, his cheeks flushing red in embarrassment as he realised he had upset Harry Potter.

"My names Ron, by the way, Ron Weasley," the boy said, sticking out his hand as if to smooth other the whole situation with a handshake. Harry gave Ron's hand a quick shake before breaking contact.

"_Weasley indeed,_" Tom mused while Ron started a monologue about something called Quidditch, "_That certainly explains a great deal._"

Harry imagined raising an eyebrow at his incorporeal friend, prompting him to continue.

"_The Weasley clan have always been ardent supporters of Dumbledore. They hold no real political power themselves, but there are just so very many of them that their support is crucial to Dumbledore as they provide him with loyal followers_," Tom explained. "_I suspect that the great schemer himself mentioned to the mother that you would be on the muggle side of things today._"

A sudden thought occurred to Harry, something that he had never thought of before as it included doing something that he had never done before; doubting Tom.

_Why can't I trust Dumbledore?_ He asked. _I mean, sure he's obviously got some big plan in mind, but he got me away from the Dursleys and Hagrid said that he was the only one to stand up to Voldemort during the last war. Surely he can't be that bad?_

"_You need to look at the bigger picture, Harry_" Tom said patiently, "_First off, I'd like to dispel this idea that Dumbledore got you away from the Dursleys. I'm afraid to say that you will still need to go back there at the end of the school year, and I'm sure that Dumbledore also had a hand in putting you there in the first place._"

"_Secondly_," he continued, "_He was not the 'only one' to stand against Lord Voldemort, merely the best at surviving. He even headed a vigilante organisation that he used to combat Lord Voldemort's forces and further his own agenda._"

"_Finally, I'd like to put a stop to this notion that Dumbledore is some sort of paragon of the light,_" Tom said with pure dislike, "_The man is interested in nothing more, or less, than ensuring that he is in a position of power so he can influence the direction the wizarding world goes in. He is head of one of the premier institutes of magical leaning in the world, the leader of the judicial branch of the British ministry of magic, and he is the chief of the International Confederation of Warlocks. Simply speaking, he has the political clout to make a real difference to the world, but instead he sits back and lets the conservatives fight it out with the liberals while he plots how to get a hold on both sides._"

Harry, having barely any understanding about wizarding politics, could hardly make heads or tails of that last part, but was savvy enough to figure out that what Tom was basically saying was that Dumbledore was hoarding power. That Harry seemed to be integral to some new plan of his did not bode well for Harry's ambition to qualify as a wizard and live out the rest of his days as an independent person free of people imposing their rules on him.

"So which team do you support?" Ron asked, seemingly out of the blue. Harry stared at him in confusion for a moment before realising that the boy had still been talking while Tom had ranted about Dumbledore (and Tom's rant, mostly incomprehensible as it had been, was certainly much more interesting than whatever Ron had been going on about).

"Ummm… I don't support anyone?" Harry ventured a guess, the questioning inflection being completely missed by Ron.

"Don't support a team?!" he thundered in astonishment, "don't you like quidditch then?"

"I don't rightly know what it is," Harry admitted.

"_Why did you have to go and say that?_" Tom groaned. "_You should _never_ ask a wizard about quidditch._"

"Only the greatest sport ever!" Ron exclaimed excitedly, "weren't you listening to what I was saying for the last five minutes?"

"Sure I was," Harry lied quickly, hoping that the boy didn't see through such a blatant falsehood, "I just must have not heard the bit where you actually called it quidditch. The rest sounded really exciting."

"Brilliant," Ron said with a smile, "What position do you play?"

"I don't play," Harry said, "I did just tell you that I don't know what it is, you know."

"Oh yeah," Ron blushed in embracement. "But what position would you play if you had known about it?"

"_For the love of Merlin, just say chaser and change topic_," Tom said in exasperation.

"Chaser," Harry parroted. "By the way, have you read any of the school books?"

"Nah, there's no point till term starts," Ron answered shortly before moving back towards his preferred topic. "So why would you rather be a chaser? Looks more like you have a seekers build to me."

Harry groaned in despair before looking back up at Ron, a sort of pleading desperation in his eyes.

"Anything from the trolley, boys?" a voice sounded from just outside their compartment. Harry leapt from his seat in jubilation as he moved over to see what the witch outside the door had to offer.

The cart she was pushing was covered in all sorts of sweets, none of which Harry had ever seen before. Going out on a limb he decided to buy some of everything; hopefully that would keep Ron from talking about Quidditch.

"Blimey, Harry," Ron said with wide-eyed wonder from his seat, "how much do you eat?"

"Not that much, usually," Harry answered honestly, "but I've never really had the opportunity to eat many sweets before, so I may as well have some now."

"_Carpe diem_," Tom said amusedly from the back of Harry's mind.

"I wish I could afford to get some sweets," Ron said wistfully, eyeing the pile on the seat next to Harry jealously.

"You can share mine, if you like," Harry offered, desperate to find anything to talk about that wasn't quidditch. "I need someone to tell me what all these things are anyway."

"Sure!" Ron agreed heartily, "That's a great idea. We should start with the chocolate frogs and work our way from there."

The next twenty minutes or so were filled with much chatter about the various quirky aspects of magical confectionery. Harry was astounded at the concept of having every flavour beans, surely that would drive potential buyers away as people wouldn't want the possibility of biting into an earwax (or something even more unsavoury) flavoured bean. Then again, from what he had seen so far it seemed that many wizards operated without use of much logic.

Harry had just managed to catch his third chocolate frog, snatching it from the air as it made its bid for freedom, when the door to the compartment opened and a young, nervous looking boy appeared in front of them.

"Sorry," he said, "have either of you seen a toad? It's just that I've lost mine, he keeps escaping."

"I'm afraid not," Harry said. He was honestly baffled by the idea of keeping a toad, he certainly couldn't see the point in doing so.

"Ok," the boy mumbled dejectedly, "well, if you see him…" he then turned and left. Once they boy had left, Ron decided that the conversation could now move on from sweets. Thankfully he seemed to think pets were better to talk about than quidditch.

"If I had a toad I'd be glad if it got lost," he said frankly, "It'd just be embarrassing to be seen with one, you know."

"Do you have a pet?" Harry queried as he bit into his chocolate frog.

"Yeah, just a mangy old rat called Scabbers. Hang on a sec," Ron stood up and rooted around on the rack above his head, eventually pulling out a cage in which slept a very tatty looking rat. Lifting the creature from its cage, Harry was able to see that the rat seemed to have some of its fur falling out in places as well as missing one of its toes.

"The twin's gave me a spell to turn him yellow," Ron said as he pulled out a wand that looked just as battered as the rat. In fact, Harry was certain he could see part of the wand's core poking out the end. Just as Ron cleared his spell to start the incantation, the door to their compartment once again opened. The toadless boy was back, this time accompanying a young girl with thick bushy hair.

"Have either of you seen a toad? Neville has lost one," she asked in a bossy voice, as she talked Harry noticed she had rather prominent front teeth.

"We already told him we haven't seen it," Ron said to the girl who was now looking intently at his wand.

"Oh, are you doing magic?" she asked with some excitement, "let's see it then." She and Neville then entered the compartment and took the seats not currently filled with sweets.

Ron beamed at all the attention he was getting, proud that he was the centre of attention. He cleared his throat dramatically and brandished his wand over Scabbers.

"Sunshine, daisies, butter, mellow. Turn this stupid fat rat yellow," Ron chanted as he brought his wand down to tap on the rat's back.

Nothing happened.

"_You can't be serious,_" Tom said disdainfully, "_That boy has grown up all his life around magic. Surely he should have noticed that 'spell' was a dud._"

"Are you sure that's a real spell? Well it's not very good is it?" The new girl summed up Harry's feelings on Ron's attempt at magic perfectly. "I've tried a few simple ones, but they've all worked for me."

"Well hurray for you," Ron snapped acerbically, not at all happy that he had made himself out to be a fool in front of three other people. "If you're so smart, then you do it," Ron laid down the gauntlet. Judging by the excited gleam in the girl's eye, Harry guessed she (like him) had already looked up basic colour changing charms in their first year charms book.

"Very well," she said happily as she leant over towards the rat. "_Muto Flavus_," she said with a twist of her wrist followed by a tapping motion. As predicted, Scabbers' fur turned a bright yellow.

Harry and Neville both clapped politely while Ron scowled, his gaze darting between the girl and the rat.

"Good show," Harry complimented as he leaned over and cast "_Finite_" on the rat, cancelling the spell the girl had put on it. "If you don't mind my asking, what should Ron and I call you?" he asked of the girl.

"Oh, I'm Hermione Granger," the girl said with a slight blush. If Harry were to guess, he'd say that the girl was unused to people her own age talking to her; a kindred spirit maybe?

"Hermione, what a lovely name," Harry said politely. "My name is Harry Potter, and this is Ron Weasley," he indicated the redhead opposite him (Ron was still glaring at Hermione).

Predictably, both Neville and Hermione gasped in shock when Harry revealed his name, both of their eyes darting up to look for the tell-tale lightning bolt scar. Shifting his hair slightly, Harry revealed it to them.

"Wow, you're _the _Harry Potter," Hermione muttered, "I've read all about you, of course. I got a few extra books about the wizarding world, and you're in Modern Magical History, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."

"Indeed I am," Harry admitted feeling slightly uncomfortable that this girl had read into him (even if only to a slight extent), "but most of what those books say about me is pure conjecture." Harry had been appalled, but not the least bit surprised, to find out that his name and image had been used to sell both books and toys for the past decade. All without him receiving any sort of royalties for it.

"Surely they wouldn't be able to write about it without the proper facts," Hermione said, a look of confusion on her face.

"Ever heard the phrase 'don't believe everything you read?'" Harry asked, only slightly jokingly.

"Of course, but those books are peer reviewed and-" she started.

"By people who don't know any more about the situation than the author does," Harry finished bluntly. "The only person who knows exactly what happened that day is Voldemort," (the other occupants of the compartment gasped in unison) "and he is in no state to talk about it."

"But…" Hermione tried, seemingly unable to reconcile with the idea that what she had learnt was incorrect.

"Don't worry about it, Hermione," Harry said comfortingly, trying to add the 'charm' that Tom sometimes said was so important ("_Charismatic people get further in life, Harry. You would do well to remember that._") to his tone of voice.

"You seem like a smart girl," he smiled, reaching across the compartment and patting her leg comfortingly. He completely ignored the confused looks on both Ron and Neville's faces. "I'm sure you can look at things critically and come to your own decisions about the state of things."

"_The pot calling the kettle black indeed,_" Tom snorted before switching to his impression of Harry; a high, whiny voice that sounded nothing like Harry (who believed himself to speak in deep, dulcet tones), "_'Tom, what does this mean? Tom, what does that mean? Tom, what's this all about?'_"

_Shut it you,_ Harry shot back, sending a mental shove Tom's way. _I'm perfectly capable of making my own decisions about things_.

"_Whatever you say, Harry_," Tom said, a grin evident in his tone.

"You're right," Hermione eventually managed to say, after she had given herself a nice long moment to think through all the different things she had learnt about the wizarding world so far and where they would get their information from (her encyclopaedic memory made this task very easy). "I guess I have been a bit gullible, haven't I?"

"Gulli-what?" Ron asked.

"It means-" Hermione started, before Harry cut her off.

"Muggle-like," he finished, winking at Hermione. Neville just raised his eyebrow, as if to say 'you know perfectly well it isn't.'

"Oh, alright," Ron nodded along before opening a packet of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. A few moments later, the rest of the compartment burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?" Ron asked in confusion.

"Harry was just being silly," Hermione informed him as she stopped laughing, "being gullible means you're easily persuaded to believe something."

"That's not funny!" Ron flushed with anger and embarrassment.

"Yes it was," Neville piped up, finally seeming comfortable enough to take part in the conversation. "But I think we should stop making fun of Ron," Harry didn't miss how Neville's use of the word 'we' created the situation whereby he was included, thereby making them a little group of sorts.

"_Interesting,_" Tom muttered, "_I think the boy may have received some education on social manipulation. Probably pureblooded then. But he lacks the confidence to make use of his skills._"

_You just have to overanalyse everything don't you?_ Harry queried, deciding that he'd rather be friends with Neville than go through the awkward situation of pointing out that he hadn't had anything to do with teasing Ron in the first place.

"Good idea, Neville," Harry said with a grin. "By the way, what's your surname? I don't think you said earlier."

"Longbottom," Neville said with a slight grin (it looked almost like a grimace), "I'm the heir of the Noble and most Ancient house of Longbottom."

"Wow," Ron muttered in mild astonishment, "you're almost as unknown as Harry."

"Why is that, Neville?" Hermione asked, she knew from various sources that Harry had been raised away from magical Britain, but why the scion of some sort of ancient house (she assumed they were the wizarding equivalent of the peerage system) would be a recluse.

"Well, my family didn't really want me getting out into the wizarding world too much," Neville muttered embarrassedly, any confidence he had possessed earlier fading almost completely. "They thought that I was a squib for ages, kept trying to force the magic out of me. Of course, they didn't want me to get a public reputation in case it turned out that I _was_ a squib."

"What? That is utterly ridiculous-" Hermione started. Once more Harry decided to cut her off, realising that this was not a topic that Neville felt comfortable discussing.

"Enough of that, for now," he said, "I'd rather not get into the workings of the Noble houses before we even get to school."

"My thoughts exactly," Neville agreed, happy for the change in conversation.

"So what houses do you think you'll get into?" Ron asked.

"Gryffindor," Neville answered immediately, "my dad was a Gryffindor, so I think it's sort of expected of me."

"Same," Ron said, although he seemed he took much more pride in the idea of joining the house of lions, "my whole family has been Gryffindor for generations. Can you imagine the shame of being sorted into Slytherin?"

"All four houses have their virtues, Ron," Hermione said with a lecturing tone, "but I would like to be in Gryffindor too, Dumbledore was in that house and he's meant to be the greatest wizard of this century."

"Yeah, Gryffindor _is_ the best house," Ron said happily before turning to the only person not to have given a house preference, "what about you, Harry?"

"Give me a minute to think," Harry said before leaning back in his seat and seriously thinking about what house he belonged in. Before now, he had only known he didn't want to be in Slytherin, he had heard nothing but bad things about them and the only person he had met that said they wanted to be in Slytherin had treated him as if he was somehow inferior.

At the same time, Harry couldn't bring himself to say Gryffindor. Sure, from what he'd seen so far, he liked Hermione, she reminded him of himself (if somewhat more naïve and bookish) with her apparent social awkwardness.

He liked Neville too, so far. The boy had lived a reclusive life enforced by his family, much like Harry had been (and if the inflections in his voice when talking about how his family had tried to 'force' the magic out of him, his upbringing may not have been too dissimilar in many ways). He liked both of them well enough, but yet there was one thing that put him off the idea of Gryffindor.

Harry knew that at the moment Ron was the youngest of at least four Weasley boys currently attending Hogwarts, and from Ron's comment about his whole family being Gryffindor, and a house full of Ron's would probably kill him.

Fair enough, Ron may be a nice enough kind of guy, but Harry had easily noticed the jealous glint in the boys eye when Harry had purchased the sweets, something that hadn't abated despite Harry sharing those sweets with Ron. And that's all without mentioning the boy's rude manner, the glare's he had sent towards Hermione for showing him up (which Harry doubted was the girl's intention at all) hadn't been hidden well at all. Ron seemed to thrive on resentment.

Tom had often said, and Harry agreed with him, that Harry had developed a very good 'gut instinct.' Normally, Tom would talk about such feelings as being an irrational cognitive response, and try to use logical reasoning to find out the truth behind a given situation.

However, Harry's 'gut feeling' was much more than that. It encompassed the perceived danger any given person posed to Harry both physically and psychologically. Such a method of thinking was essential given his upbringing. And watching Ron was ringing Harry's alarm bells.

"I'd rather go in Ravenclaw," Harry said at last, a slightly speculative tone to his voice (which only enhanced the Ravenclawish effect). Ron looked at him askance.

"Why on earth would you want to be a Ravenclaw?" Ron asked, "all they do is study. It's got to be the most _boring_ house there is! Besides, your Harry Potter; you should be in Gryffindor."

"I believe that the motto for Ravenclaw is that 'wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure,'" Harry pointed out, "and I'd rather think things through than go charging into situations blind."

"An interesting analogy, but I think the Gryffindor mentality is more about sticking up for what is right, rather than just having knowledge for the sake of it," Hermione reasoned.

"But who's to say that a Ravenclaw can't be morally upstanding?" Harry countered. "Let's look at you, Hermione; why should you, an intellectual go into Gryffindor when your academic development would be best served by joining Ravenclaw. Surely, if you are able to progress further in that house you will be able to use your greater knowledge for the betterment of whatever cause you're interested in."

"I'm getting the impression that you're trying to trivialize the issue," Hermione shot back. Both she and Harry were now gearing up towards full debate mode. Tom was getting very excited at the possibility of a good intellectual debate (honestly, living in a child's head for ten years can be mind numbingly boring).

"For the love of Merlin, shut up, both of you!" Ron shouted, not at all interested in listening to a debate about the pros and cons of being a Ravenclaw as opposed to a Gryffindor (Tom let out a stream of words in Latin that Harry was sure were curses he wanted to throw at Ron).

"Stop being so bloody _geeky_ and talk about something normal," Ron continued in an irate, yet much quieter voice. Harry was completely unrepentant whereas Hermione looked quite upset at the use of the word 'geeky' and now had her eyes downcast towards the floor.

"Blimey, have you seen the time?" Neville suddenly said, hoping to diffuse the tension. "We should be at Hogsmeade station any minute now, we had better get changed."

"Yeah," Ron agreed with Neville before turning to Hermione (the only one of them who was already in their school robes), "you had better get out so we can get changed."

Hermione nodded wordlessly, her eyes downcast as she stood in acceptance of her rejection from the group.

"Hey, just wait outside for a minute," Harry interrupted her departure by placing gentle hand on her shoulder. She looked up to him with shinning eyes, barely holding in her tears at being sent away by people she had hoped to be friends with.

"I'll call you in when we've all got into our school robes, okay?" Harry continued, making sure to keep his tone soothing and kind. Hermione just nodded and gave him a weak smile before heading out of the door.

"Did you need to be so blunt with her?" Neville asked once Hermione was outside. Seeing that Harry was willing to be kind to Hermione had given him enough moral support for him to question Ron's behaviour.

"What?" Ron asked, nonplussed. Clearly he hadn't even thought about how his words would make Hermione feel. Harry realised that on top of jealous, Ron was also emotionally immature.

"Never mind," Harry said, hoping to prevent an argument. "It looks like we're pulling into the station now, we may as well go out now rather than call Hermione back in.

So it was that Harry was the first to exit the compartment. He took Hermione's arm and smiled in a friendly manner to her as they, followed by Neville and Ron, headed to disembark from the train.

Despite his misgivings about Ron, Harry felt that the train ride had been most productive. He had made inroads towards having two new friends in Hermione and Neville, and he was now about to embark on a road that would lead him to a magical, Dursley free life.

Looking out at the dark evening sky as he stepped of the train Harry couldn't help but smile in happiness. He was free, and Hogwarts was waiting for him.

…~oOo~…

**A.N.** Thanks for reading everyone! I had originally planned to include the sorting scene in this chapter, but I ended up just writing more and more dialogue, so you'll have to wait until the next chapter for the all-important sorting! Oh, and obviously the meeting with Draco will be happening at Hogwarts like it did in the film rather than on the train.

If you think any of the characters were OOC then please say so (along with your evidence for them being OOC) so that I can either explain my reasoning or fix any personality errors I may have included.

I tried to base the characters on what we know or infer from canon (eg. Neville's upbringing or Hermione not having any friends prior to Hogwarts) and use this as a basis for how they would act in a social situation such as the one presented in this chapter.

Once again, thanks for reading. And feel free to post a **review** to show everyone what you think of the story thus far.

Blddmn.


	5. The Sorting

**In My Head**

**Disclaimer:**

I neither own the rights to the Harry Potter franchise, nor do I make any money by writing this; it is a work of fanfiction.

**A quick note** on Vernon Dursley. Anything I say Vernon mentioned in one of his rants is meant to be mocking how ignorant people are when they stereotype others (I think it was Rednecks in chapter one) so any potentially upsetting terms said in this context are not meant to offend, quite the opposite in fact; their inclusion is meant to show how silly it is to judge people based on stereotyping. Remember readers, be aware of your own prejudice; don't fall into the Dursley trap!

**Another quick note** on Blaise Zabini. First off, the name Blaise is, and always has been a boy's name (I know some people like Girl!Blaise, but no, just no). Second, I have always imagined Blaise as being black (and was vindicated when the sixth film came out!), yet I know that a lot of people liked the idea of him being of Mediterranean decent with very tan skin; so I'll try to describe him in a way that won't ruin anyone's visualisation of him. Anyway, enjoy reading…

…~oOo~…

**Chapter Five**

The Sorting

Harry looked up at the star filled sky as he stepped off the Hogwarts express and onto the platform at Hogsmeade. Having very rarely left the light pollution of Surry (and on those few occasions knew not to draw attention by staring into the sky) Harry had never seen just how many stars there were up there. It was a beautiful sight.

"First years this way!" a familiar voice boomed out, drawing Harry back to earth. Looking around he was easily able to spot the enormous figure of Hagrid standing at least three feet above the tallest students.

Using his natural ability at dodging (honed by years of avoiding Dudley) Harry found a path through the swarm of older students and led Hermione, Neville and Ron over to the huge groundskeeper.

"Alright there, Harry," Hagrid called to him once he saw him before shouting out for first years once more. In a few minutes it was only the first years and Hagrid left on the platform, the rest of the students had moved onto the horseless carriages that were waiting near the platform.

"This way, everyone," Hagrid said to the assembled first years and lead them off down a muddy slope towards a small dock at the edge of what appeared to be a massive lake.

From here Harry got his first view of the ancient castle of Hogwarts, and what a castle it was. Numerous towers and spires rose above the already huge caste, giving it a sense of grandness that Harry had never seen before. Harry was sure that the tallest tower would give an excellent panoramic view of the surrounding Scottish countryside (provided the weather didn't make it too hard to see).

Reaching the dock, Harry found himself in the lead of most of the other students, whether this was because he was able to balance better going down the slippery slope or because most others didn't want to get too near Hagrid he couldn't tell.

"No more 'n four to a boat," Hagrid called out as he looked back over the students amassing on the small dock.

Being right next to the edge of the water, Harry climbed into the first boat he saw so that he wouldn't be accidentally shoved into the water (he had never learnt to swim properly as the Dursleys didn't want to 'waste' money on getting him lessons).

Instead of the three people he already knew climbing in; Harry was soon joined by three complete strangers. Sitting next to him was a red headed girl who wore her hair in a single plait that fell down her back. Behind them sat a stout looking boy with blondish hair and a haughty looking boy with dark skin and cropped hair just as dark as Harry's.

Looking around for Hermione and Neville, Harry saw that Hermione was now in a boat with a pair of witches who seemed to be of south Asian decent and another girl. Neville had found a boat with Ron and two other boys.

"This is all terrifically exciting, isn't it?" the blondish boy said while the other boats were still being filled. He had a look of barely supressed excitement on his face, giving Harry the impression that he was trying to be 'proper' while really wanting to jump around in glee.

"It is rather," Harry agreed with a grin, turning in his seat to face the other occupants of the little boat. Next to him, the redheaded girl nodded and smiled while the dark skinned boy rolled his eyes (although a slight grin gave away his own excitement).

"I've been waiting to come to Hogwarts my whole life," the boy said earnestly before he looked Harry over a bit more thoroughly, "say, I don't think we've met before. The name's Ernest Macmillan, but everyone just calls me Ernie." The boy stuck his hand out towards Harry.

"Harry Potter, but most people call me 'Merlin bless you,'" Harry quipped as he shook the boys hand, trying to make himself appear confident and witty (one of Tom's many words of wisdom was to be proud and believe in yourself, otherwise no one else would).

Ernie's hand seemed to seize up in Harry's grasp at that point as his mouth fell open to form a most comical O shape. The other two occupants had similar reactions; the girl gasped in shock and covered her mouth whereas the boy's eyes had widened and were now staring at Harry.

At that moment the boat shuddered and the small assemblage of boats started moving away from the shoreline. This movement seemed to startle the occupants of Harry's boat back to reality; Ernie dropped Harry's hand and rubbed the back of his neck embarrassedly.

"Are you really?" he asked tentatively. Harry shifted his messy fringe to one side, unveiling the lightning bolt scar. Ernie just stared for a moment while the dark skinned boy leant forward and extended his hand.

"I see the rumours of your return weren't exaggerated. Blaise Zabini, pleased to meet you," he said in a surprisingly deep voice for an eleven year old.

"Well that depends what was in the rumour. Pleased to meet you too," Harry said as he took the boy's hand. Blaise lifted an eyebrow and smirked, but in an amused rather than unpleasant way.

"I suppose that leaves me then," the girl next to Harry said as she extended her hand, palm down, towards Harry. "Susan Bones."

Harry was about to shake her hand when Tom butted in, telling him he was about to make a horrible faux pas.

"_Take her hand, then lean over and ghost a kiss over the back of her hand_," he informed Harry quickly. Harry covered for his misstep by flashing her what he hopped was a charming smile before making his move.

"A pleasure to meet you, Miss Bones," he said as he took her hand. Bending over her hand, he made the motions of kissing said hand, but without actually touching his lips to her hand.

"Well at least you don't seem to be lacking in social graces," Blaise said amusedly as Harry sat up straight once more. Harry just shot him a grin before turning around to look at the castle they were fast approaching. Thankfully, the other three students decided to do the same rather than try to push a conversation.

Eventually they passed into the dock house situated just a stones throw from the castle proper. Once all of the boats had been safely moored Hagrid started to lead the children up a long set of steps towards the castle entrance.

"You know, you're going to be the talk of the castle," Blaise said in a nonchalant voice as they climbed the steps together. Susan and Ernie were just ahead of them and Harry had seen Hermione hurrying to catch up to him. Neville was further behind, still with Ron and the two other boys.

"I figured as much," Harry admitted. "I get the feeling that people sort of expect me to go to Gryffindor."

"Well you hit the gnome on the head there," Blaise said, Harry found the magical adaptation of the 'nail on the head' idiom amusing for some reason. "I think everyone is expecting you to be the anti-Slytherin, you know, with your killing off the Dark Lord and all. Don't you want to be in Gryffindor?"

Harry was unsurprised by how casual Blaise was about the whole thing, most wizards Harry talked to could hardly contain their shock at him being there. Thankfully their discussion was quiet enough not to be noticed by anyone other than Susan and Ernie, whom they were walking in a group with anyway.

"Not particularly," Harry admitted, "I'd much rather be a Ravenclaw than anything. What about you guys?"

"Hufflepuff," Susan answered instantly, "The Bone's family has a pretty solid work ethic, and my Auntie made sure I was brought up to appreciate why people should play by the rules."

"I'm not sure, myself," Ernie admitted, "I have family in all the houses, and to be honest I don't really mind which I end up in, as long as it's the best one for me."

"I'll be either a Gryffindor or Slytherin," Blaise told the group.

"Aren't they like polar opposites or something?" Harry asked, confused.

"Well yes," Blaise qualified with a smirk, "but while I'm plenty cunning enough for Slytherin, I don't have an ounce of ambition."

"You don't have _any_ ambitions?" Susan asked disbelievingly.

"I'm a trust fund baby. I just want to live extravagantly and spend my money frivolously," Blaise informed them with a laugh. Harry couldn't say whether or not the boy was joking.

"Don't you want to make a name for yourself?" Ernie asked.

"My mother has more than enough reputation for both of us," Blaise answered, a brief scowl crossing his face. Harry contemplating whether or not it would be rude to ask Blaise about what his mother was known for when Tom filled in the gap for him.

"_Madam Zabini has a reputation for marrying wealthy wizards and inheriting their fortunes when they die under mysterious circumstances,_" Tom informed Harry. "_You should also know that all three of your new little friends are purebloods, and I'm fairly certain that the Zabini family are blood supremacists._"

_Really? Blaise seems like a really nice guy though,_ Harry asked Tom. The group were now coming to the top of the stairs.

"_I don't think they're as radical as the Malfoys,_" Tom informed him, "_but they stayed out of England during most of the war with Voldemort, so I don't know their exact stance_."

Harry was pulled from his silent conversation with Tom by Hagrid opening the doors at the top of the stairs and leading them into the castle. The first years followed the groundskeeper until they found themselves in a fairly small antechamber. In front of them stood a very stern looking witch, Harry's gut told him that this was a woman not to be crossed.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said as they stopped before the witch.

"Thank you, Hagrid," she said in a thick Scottish brogue, "I'll handle it from here." Hagrid simply nodded and headed through the door behind the woman.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she said to the group, "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room. The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards." McGonagall paused at that point to make sure all the first years were paying attention to her. They were.

"While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours," she once more looked over the students, her gaze fixing on Neville, who's robe was slightly out of place, "I'll give you a few moments to prepare yourselves while I make sure the rest of the school is ready for you."

Nervous and excited chatter broke out amongst the students as soon as Professor McGonagall left the room. Harry, Blaise, Susan and Ernie were joined by another girl by the name of Hannah Abbott, who claimed to be a friend of Susans.

"Oh, I'm so scared of the sorting," she whispered to them, "My dad said that we would have to duel each other in front of the whole school. The only spell I can do that would be even modoratly useful is the jelly legs jinx."

"Utter rubbish," Blaise snorted, "He's having you on. I have it on good authority that it's a multiple choice exam. Putting down certain answers indicates which house would be best for you."

"I doubt it'd be done that way," Harry said, "What would happen if you scored equally for two or more houses?"

"Good point," Blaise conceded.

"I suppose we will just have to wait and see then," Susan said with a grin, Harry suspected someone had already told her how they were _actually_ sorted, not that she was likely to tell the rest of them.

"Harry!" a voice called out from behind him, Harry spun around to see Hermione and Neville moving through the crowd of students towards him. "We lost you on the slope," she said as she reached him, "isn't it all so exciting? I can't wait to be sorted. But I'm so nervous about what will do the sorting. What if I haven't learnt enough. What if something comes up that I haven't looked at yet?"

"Hermione, calm down," Harry tried to no avail, glancing at Neville they shared a look that clearly expressed how the poor boy had had to put up with this since getting off the boat.

"Why don't you introduce us to your friends, Harry," Ernie interjected, thankfully giving Hermione a reason to stop her nervous speed talking in order to focus on the new people in front of her.

"Sure thing," Harry said gladly, "Everyone, this is Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom." Hands were shook and pleasantries exchanged as the group introduced themselves to the two newcomers, some of them seemed especially interested in Neville (who Harry already knew was about as unknown as he was) and Blaise was looking curiously at Hermione.

"Ahem," another voice sounded behind Harry, turning around he came face to face with the boy he had met in Madam Malkins in Diagon Alley. Flanking the blond lad were two hulking boys who looked like they should be at least third years.

"So it's true then," he said imperiously, "_you_ are Harry Potter."

"So they keep telling me," Harry tried to come off as confident and funny, but the boy just looked so smug and conceited that he was sure it came off as confrontational. The rest of the group Harry had been with had turned their attention to the conversation at this point.

"I see you've found friends from some good families," the boy said, nodding towards Blaise. "My name is Draco Malfoy, these are my friends Crabbe and Goyle," he indicated the two hulking boys next to him. "We're very interested in making sure you stay with proper wizards while in Hogwarts, it wouldn't do for Harry Potter to be seen with the riff raff."

"_Take it easy, Harry,_" Tom said before Harry could respond to Malfoy's blatantly insulting people from muggle backgrounds. "_The Malfoy house is powerful; if you're going to confront him then make it so that he is seen to attack you first._"

"And just what do you mean by 'riff raff?'" Harry asked, his voice sounding slightly colder. Draco didn't pick up on it.

"Why, the mudbloods of course," he answered plainly.

"I happen to know that my mother was a _muggleborn_," Harry emphasised the non-offensive terminology, "I don't appreciate people from muggle backgrounds being picked on because they weren't raised a wizard."

"You're making a big mistake then," Draco said, his voice also turning colder. "You'll find it's much harder to get places in the wizarding world if you're a muggle lover."

"In that case, I think we're done here," Harry said before turning his back on Malfoy. He noticed Blaise shooting Malfoy a look out of the corner of his eye, clearly the two were aquainted.

Thankfully, Malfoy decided not to push the issue and walk away. Harry was glad that Malfoy had not held out his hand during their brief encounter as he was sure he wouldn't have found the will to shake it.

After a few more minutes of general conversation (during which Ron insisted the sorting involved wrestling a Troll) Professor McGonagall returned, and beckoned them to follow her into the great hall.

Walking out of the antechamber Harry was amazed by the sheer scale of the room he found himself in. The great currently seated the entire Hogwarts population on five large tables, four for the students and one for the staff at the far end of the room. Every eye in the room was now focused on the first years marching down the central aisle between the tables.

"The ceiling is enchanted to look like the sky outside," he heard Hermione whisper to Neville behind him. Glancing up, Harry was pleasantly surprised by the twinkling stars above. He also noticed that the hall was being illuminated not only by the stars and moonlight, but by thousands of floating candles that all burnt with large, bright flames, yet didn't drip wax on the students below them.

"Your friend is rather talkative isn't she," Ernie whispered from next to Harry.

"You're telling me?" Harry laughed quietly as they walked the last few paces to the front of the hall.

Coming to a stop in between the head table and the house tables the first years lined up facing three legged stool. On top of the stool lay a rather battered looking wizard's hat. There were several rips and tears on the hat and the edges were badly frayed. Looking at the hat seemed to confuse most of the first years.

They stood there, their anxiety slowly increasing as nothing happened when suddenly the hat twitched, seemingly of its own accord. A tear near the brim opened up and the hat started singing. _Seriously, what?_ Harry thought.

_Oh you may not think me pretty,  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.  
You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all.  
There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be._

You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry  
Set Gryffindors apart;  
You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Huffelpuffs are true  
And unafraid of toil;  
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
if you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind;  
Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folks use any means  
To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
For I'm a Thinking Cap!

The entire hall burst into applause as the hat's song reached its culmination. Harry was still stuck on the bit where a hat would be searching through his mind, surely that was a gross infringement on his privacy. Professor McGonagall stepped forwards, a long scroll in her hands.

"When I call your name, come forward and place the sorting hat on your head," she announced to the first years. "Abbot, Hannah."

Hannah moved forward, looking really nervous. Once she was sitting on the stool Professor McGonagall placed the hat on her head. Clearly the hat had been intended for a fully grown wizard (with a rather large head) as the hat completely covered the girls head, coming to rest on her shoulders.

After a few moments of silence, the tear in the brim opened up again and shouted out "**Hufflepuff!**"

The students on the centre right table exploded in cheers as Hannah removed the hat and went off to join her new house.

'Bones, Susan' followed Hannah to the Hufflepuff table to the same cheers whereas 'Boot, Terry' became the first Ravenclaw (to which the centre left cheered and applauded). This was followed by 'Brown, Lavender' becoming the first Gryffindor (the table on the far left cheered with Ron's brothers Fred and George wolf whistling) and 'Bulstrode, Millicent' became the first Slytherin and was cheered by the table on the far right.

Of the people Harry had met so far 'Crabbe, Vincent' was sorted into Slytherin, he was soon followed by 'Goyle, Gregory.' Hermione took a long time on the stool but was eventually sorted into Ravenclaw. Neville too took a long time but was eventually sorted into Gryffindor, he looked extremely relieved to have ended up there.

Harry gave Ernie Macmillan an encouraging smile when it was his turn to be sorted ("**Hufflepuff!**") and watched thoughtfully as Malfoy was sorted into Slytherin before the Hat had a chance to fully cover his head.

_That settles it; I am _definitely_ not going to be a Slytherin_, Harry promised himself.

All too soon it was Harry's turn to step up to the stool and try on the hat. When Professor McGonagall called his name out the entire hall stopped any conversation for a moment before breaking out in hushed and excited whispers: '_is that Harry Potter?' 'could it really be him?'_

As Harry walked up towards the stool he noticed that even the teachers seemed to be leaning forward in their seats, the headmaster himself was smiling at Harry, a twinkle in his bespectacled eyes. Harry sat on the stool and the world turned black as McGonagall put the hat over his head.

"Well now, what have we here?" the hat spoke into his ear. Or at least he thought it was his ear, the damn thing could be inside his mind right now!

"Very interesting thoughts you have here, Mr Potter, I see you will be most difficult to sort," the hat said, "and you even have some mental shielding it seems, most curious."

_Mental shielding?_ Harry asked, forgoing his disdain for the thought plundering magical item in order to find out just what it was on about.

"You appear to have some occlumency shields in place," the hat answered unhelpfully.

_Yes, but _what_ is occumency?_ Harry pressed. Honestly couldn't the hat see that he didn't know? Stupid hat.

"Occlumency is the act of closing off your mind from others, it prevents outside influences from directly accessing or manipulating your thoughts and emotions within your mind," the hat told him.

_So I have a shield that stops people from mind reading me?_ Harry queried. He had no idea that sort of thing even existed.

"In essence, yes," the hat admitted, "it is strange though, not only have I never seen an eleven year old with occlumency shields before, but yours are not like any I have experienced even before I became the sorting hat."

_What do you mean?_

"I mean that I can still access your thoughts without having to try to unsort them from your occlumency shields. It's almost like you have someone else in your mind."

Harry suddenly realised what was happening, Tom was the one shielding his mind. And by the hat's lack of comment on Tom, it seemed that he was manipulating the thoughts of Harry's that the hat could see so that they wouldn't reveal him.

_Is this conversation confidential?_ Harry asked the hat.

"Of course it is!" the hat actually sounded offended. "It would be unconscionable of me to reveal what I saw in a student to anyone."

_Under any circumstances?_ Harry pressed.

"Never."

"_Well that settles that issue,_" Tom butted in. Harry was sure that the hat even jumped in shock at that point.

"Tom Riddle, it has been a long time," the hat said coolly. It didn't seem like it liked Tom at all. "That explains a great deal."

"_Indeed it does,_" Tom agreed brusquely, "_But you've wasted enough time talking about occlumency, even with communicating at the speed of thought, this is taking an abnormally long time._"

"Very well then," the hat said grumpily, "As I'm sure you're aware, Harry has the qualities required to go into any of the houses, although now I think he'll be best for-"

_Not Slytherin!_ Harry interrupted, he was certain that the hat was about to pass him on to the house of snakes. _I'd rather be a Ravenclaw!_

"A Ravenclaw? I think you're much better suited to Slytherin than Ravenclaw, young man," the hat said grumpily.

"_And much better suited to Gryffindor than either of them,_" Tom said sternly.

_I am _so_ not a Gryffindor! _Harry protested. He still didn't want to be in the same house as Ron's brothers (he hadn't found their catcalling at Lavender Brown earlier to be very nice, it may have even upset the poor girl).

"_Dumbledore expects you to be a Gryffindor, anything else will make him suspicious,_" Tom tried reasoning with him.

_As long as I don't go to Slytherin then I'm sure he won't really care_, Harry shot back.

"But your thirst to prove yourself is integral to your Slytherin nature, you would do well in the house of Salazar," the hat tried to get its say in. "You're not nearly studious to be a Ravenclaw."

_I've been writing potions essays since I was seven!_ Harry protested. He was determined to be a Ravenclaw, God damn it!

"_And you can still write all the potions essays you want in Gryffindor,_" Tom tried again, "_Only with less interference from Dumbledore._"

_I am not a Gryffindor! I don't wear my heart on my chest and go running off without thinking. That only ever gets you hurt or locked in the cupboard!_ Harry tried reasoning that he had to be witty to survive the Dursleys. _I had to think things through or I wouldn't be able to eat. That's my life._

"Your certainly brave," the hat took Harry's conviction and turned it on its head. "Willing to stand up to us right now and fight for what you want, even though you're not partially suited to Ravenclaw. But I can see that you really don't wish to go down the path that leads to Gryffindor..."

"_Please, think about it, Harry,_" Tom said gently, "_in Gryffindor you will be safer than anywhere else from Dumbledore's manipulations. He'll think your already firmly in his camp._"

"You're not afraid of working for what you have, that's for sure," the hat interjected, "potions essays from age seven and cleaning the house every day. Your unafraid of doing the hard things in life, yet willing to offer kindness to others."

_For the last time,_ Harry said angrily, _I don't want to go to Gryffindor!_

"I know," the hat said, "which is why you grow best in **Hufflepuff!**"

The hat was pulled from Harrys head. He looked around in a daze for a moment before seeing the Hufflepuff table cheering and waving him over. Finding his way to his feet, Harry marched himself over to sit by Ernie Macmillan.

"Well done, Harry. Well done," Ernie said pompously and once more shook his hand. All about him the older students were leaning in, congratulating him on being sorted into Hufflepuff.

Harry was shocked; he hadn't seen it coming. He had been so focused on getting into Ravenclaw that he hadn't even considered the option of going into Hufflepuff. That the hat had just sprung it on him like that was… unsettling? Enraging? Harry didn't know what to think of it all.

Despite his somewhat dazed state, Harry managed to pay some attention to the rest of the sorting; Ron Weasley was sorted into Gryffindor (_How come _he _gets to go to the house he wanted?_) while Blaise Zabini was sorted into Slytherin.

"_Look on the bright side_," Tom said in an annoyingly chipper voice, "_at least you know three of the people in this house. You even have acquaintances in all of the houses._"

_What's so great about that?_ Harry asked moodily.

"_Networking, Harry_," Tom said happily, "_Making connections in all the houses will help solidify their opinion of you as a good guy._"

_And I need to do that because?_ Harry replied sarcastically.

"_You're a celebrity, Harry,_" the way Tom said it sounded like he thought Harry was being deliberately stupid, "_as a public figure it's in your best interests to get people to like you_."

_Don't wanna_.

"_Well too bad,_" Tom put his figurative foot down, "_Start interacting with your peers or so help me I will keep you awake for a week_."

Harry was about to retort when Dumbledore stood up at the head table. The room fell silent.

"Before we tuck in to our delicious feast, I would just like to say a few words," the headmaster said to the hall. Despite not having raised his voice beyond a normal talking volume he was heard perfectly throughout the great hall. "And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you."

Harry, along with most of the first years just stared at him confusedly. The upper years simply shrugged their shoulders and turned towards the table.

A mere moment later saw the table covered dishes and plates. All down the table were bowls full of all sorts of delicious vegetables and plates covered in succulent meats. Harry only just managed to prevent his eyes from bugging out.

All about him the other students were tucking in, filling up their plates with whatever took their fancy. Deciding to (for once in his life) eat a full roast dinner, Harry started covering his plate with all the things the Dursley's had made him cook for their Sunday roasts over the years. Pork, chicken legs and roast beef were swiftly piled onto the plate along with cabbage, carrots, swede, onion, parsnips, cauliflower, green beans, and no less than three types of potato (mashed, roasted, and boiled), all of this was topped off with a generous helping of thick gravy.

"Merlin's bead, Harry," Susan laughed from her seat opposite him, "with all the food on that plate, I'm sure you must have been starving yourself."

"Something like that," Harry said with a grin. He didn't want to tell her just how accurate her words of jest had been to the truth.

Harry started up or joined several conversations with his first year peers while he tried to demolish his mountain of food. Their year now consisted of himself, Ernie, a boy called Justin Finch-Fletchley, and another boy called Zacharias Smith making up the male contingent with Susan and Hannah being joined by Megan Jones and Sally-Anne Perks to make up the female half of their year.

"So, do you think Dumbledore is a bit… mad?" Harry asked the group at large as he started cutting up a piece of beef.

"Probably, he's brilliant though, my Aunty says that he's the greatest wizard of our time," Susan said seriously.

"Does your aunty know him then?" asked Sally-Anne, she was slightly shorter than the other girls and a bit plumper.

"Her aunt's the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," Zacharias pointed out, his tone sounding almost as if he was scolding Sally-Anne. "You must be muggleborn not to know that."

Harry was about to say something to the boy about how rude he was being when an older boy called down the table and beat him to it.

"Get that chip of your shoulder, Smith," he rebuked, "there's no room for bigotry in Hufflepuff."

Zacharias scowled a bit, but didn't push the issue. Sally-Anne gave her thanks to her defender, an attractive third year named Cedric Diggory, before turning back to the conversations going on between the new first years.

"My name was down for Eton, you know," Justin was saying, his voice simply screamed of being from a well-to-do family, "My father was actually quite disappointed that I wasn't able to attend, he's an Eton alumnus himself, you see. But I think it will be much more exciting to be learning spells than whatever I would have done at Eton."

"Seriously, you were down for Eton?" Harry asked. Of course, he had heard of it, the place seemed to churn out Prime Ministers like a factory.

"Indeed I was," Justin said, "to be honest, I'm glad to be here instead. There's a terrible stereotype about old Etonians being snobs!

"Never," Harry feigned shock, remembering all the times Uncle Vernon had complained about 'prissy upper-class swots taking for granted what good hardworking people have to shed blood, sweat and tears for,' this rant had been swiftly followed by another of Uncle Vernon's favourites; the one about the 'Pakis' coming and stealing all the jobs. There was just no pleasing him.

"You know, Justin," Ernie cut in with a laugh, "people have just the same chip on their shoulder about Hufflepuff. Except that for us 'puffs it's that everyone thinks we're a load of old duffers."

"Well we'll show them what for," Justin replied. Harry held in a snort at how very posh Justin sounded just then.

"Right on, good chap," Ernie agreed. This time both Harry and Sally-Anne couldn't help but start laughing.

"We'll show everyone that Hufflepuff isn't a house to be messed with," Justin continued.

"My thoughts exactly," Ernie nodded vigorously, "with Harry Potter in our house, we'll show the rest of them what we're made of."

"And besides," Justin went to finish, "I'm sure Hufflepuff house is the most fun!"

No sooner had the words left his mouth when a ghost's head appear through Justin's plate. Justin was so shocked by the sudden appearance (and existence) of the spectral man that he almost fell backwards off his seat next Hannah Abbott. Thankfully she was able to catch him before he fell over.

Ernie laughed at the nearly slapstick moment, Harry on the other hand was quite startled by the ghost at their table.

"Ah, new students; I'm delighted to see you all," the ghost said happily as he floated up through the table. The man appeared to be some sort of overweight monk, if his clothing was anything to go by. This was confirmed a moment later by Hannah.

"The Fat Friar!" she blurted out. She then covered her mouth in embarrassment as the ghost turned to look at her. Thankfully he was smiling.

"That is me indeed," he said, "I'm Hufflepuff's house ghost. Oh how good it is to see young minds ready to join in the adventures of Hogwarts!"

_Are all the ghosts this cheerful, or is it just this guy?_ Harry asked Tom.

"_Just him, I'm afraid,_" was the reply. "_The Bloody Baron hardly talks to anyone, Nearly-headless Nick likes moping about how he's not properly decapitated, and as for the Grey Lady… let me just say you will never meet a more miserable soul._"

_Nice_, Harry deadpanned. He took this reprieve in conversation (the others were busy quizzing the Fat Friar about what it was like to be a ghost. Harry wasn't really that interested) to look at the teachers who would soon be in more or less direct control of his life. He wanted to get their measure so he knew which ones to avoid.

His glance caught the eye of Hagrid who waved happily at him; Harry smiled and waved back at him. Moving his glance along the table he was glad to see that most of the teachers weren't paying him any attention at all. He passed over Professor McGonagall, who he already knew not to cross and his eyes finally met those of Albus Dumbledore.

Harry felt Tom squirm in the back of his mind as the Headmaster locked gazes with him. Dumbledore's had a sort of kindly ethereal quality to him that held the promise of fairness, care and trustworthiness, all of which was manifest in the jovial twinkle in his eyes.

Flashing a quick smile at the headmaster, Harry broke eye contact and turned back to get a few more mouthfuls of his dinner.

"_Subtle, old man, very subtle,_" Tom said suddenly.

_What are you on about?_ Harry asked as he bit a chunk off his chicken leg.

"_He tried to use legilimency –that's essentially mind reading- on you when you looked at him,_" Tom informed him.

_What?_ Harry asked in shock, pausing with a forkful of mashed potato just an inch from his mouth.

"_Don't worry, I showed him how very grateful you are that he allowed you to come to Hogwarts and that you think he seems like he could be the grandfather figure you've been searching for your whole life,_" Tom informed him smugly.

_Isn't going a bit far?_ Harry questioned, only now able to start eating again. _Surely he wouldn't believe all that fluff_.

"_He doesn't expect you to be able to play him at his own game,_" Tom laughed, "_there is no way an eleven year old could be such a master of the mind arts as to fool Albus Dumbledore. Too bad he didn't count on me._"

_Sneaky bastard_, Harry muttered appreciatively.

"_Language,_" Tom rebuked.

"So Harry, where were you for the last ten years?" asked Megan Jones, bringing Harry's focus back to the Hufflepuff table.

"I had to live with my Aunt and Uncle," he admitted, "I didn't even know I was a wizard until Hagrid gave me my Hogwarts letter."

"Hagrid gave you your letter?" Hannah asked, confused. "Aren't the teachers meant to give them to people living with muggles?"

"You know, I thought the same thing," Harry told them, "But Hagrid is great so I guess I have nothing to complain about really."

The rest of the first years couldn't really argue with that logic and so didn't say anything further on the topic. Conversation soon turned towards how the DMLE worked so Susan became the focus of everyone's attention. Harry used this chance to finish his survey of the staff.

His eyes soon rested on the familiar sight of Professor Quirrill and his purple turban. Sitting next to Quirrell was a pale man with a hooked nose and long curtains of greasy hair. As Harry looked at him the man's gaze flicked up.

A sharp pain shot through Harry's scar as their eyes met. Harry winced and quickly snapped his eyes back to his dinner.

"_Lord Nelson's trousers! What was that?_" Tom asked, sounding startled.

_I don't know, I just looked at that man and my scar hurt_, Harry said.

"_Yeah, I felt it,_" Tom said, sounding rather disgruntled. "_That man's name was Severus Snape, what he's doing here is utterly beyond my understanding. He was one of Voldemort's followers during the war._"

_He supported Voldemort?_ Harry parroted in shock. _Is he safe to be in a school full of children? Let alone around me!_

"_I doubt it,_" Tom admitted, "_He was always a rather vicious man. Be careful around him, and I mean very careful. I will try to figure out why he made your scar hurt._"

Putting the matter from his mind for the time being, Harry tried to engross himself in the on-going conversation between the first year Hufflepuffs.

By the time they had finished dinner and desert Harry had found out that Susan Bones was a pureblood who lived with her Aunt, the head of the DMLE because her parents had been murdered during the war with Voldemort.

Hannah Abbott turned out to be a halfblood, her father coming from an old pureblood line and her mother being a muggleborn. As it turned out, her parents were big names in the agriculture business.

Megan Jones was second generation muggleborn (or first generation halfblood, the classifications confused Harry something awful) with both of her parents being muggleborn wizards. They were both workers in the ministry of the magic. Her mother, Hestia, was an Auror in the DMLE while her father worked in the Department of Magical Transportation.

Sally-Anne Perks was, as Harry discovered earlier, a muggleborn. As it happened, both her parents worked in the Birmingham office of Grunnings, the drill company that Harry's Uncle Vernon was the Director of. Small world.

Harry already knew about Justin's background and that Zach and Ernie were purebloods, what he didn't know was that Zack could trace his ancestry back to Helga Hufflepuff herself. His family was old money, sort of like Malfoy but less conceited (although Zack did seem rather full of himself). Ernie's family was a fairly well off pureblood line that held several good positions within the ministry, just not as good as Susan's.

Once all the dishes vanished from the table, everyone quietened down for Dumbledore to make his announcements. He talked about how the forbidden forest was forbidden (_well that was a no brainer_, Harry thought) and that the third floor corridor on the right hand side was off limits if you wanted to stay alive. Tom found that bit most interesting.

Dumbledore then moved onto telling them about the new items that Mr Filch, the caretaker, had added to his list of banned items. The full list could be viewed on his office door. Finally he moved onto trying to rouse the school to sing the school song. Judging by the looks on the teacher's faces, this was their least favourite part of the welcome feast.

"Just pick your favourite tune and join in," Dumbledore said happily as he waved his wand in the air. From the wand shot sparks that started spelling out words in shining golden ribbons of light.

_Hogwarts, Hogwarts, hoggy warty Hogwarts,  
Teach us something please,  
Whether we be old and bald,  
Or young with scabby knees,  
Our heads could do with filling,  
With some interesting stuff,  
For now they're bare and full of air,  
Dead flies and bits of fluff,  
So teach us things worth knowing,  
Bring back what we've forgot,  
Just do your best, we'll do the rest,  
And learn until our brains all rot._

Harry, deciding to get into the spirit of things decided to sing the song in the style of Earth Wind and Fire's Boogie Wonderland (Aunt Petunia had been on a disco binge a couple of years ago). This was made all the more difficult by the fact that the two songs didn't really follow the same rhythm or rhyme structure, but he tried anyway.

By the end of it all only the Weasley twins were left singing, they had decided to go for a funeral march.

"Ah, music; a magic beyond that which we learn here," Dumbledore said wistfully, "Now, to bed with you all, lessons start tomorrow and all the knowledge you have forgotten over the summer needs to be replaced."

With that, the houses of the various houses stood up and started calling out instructions. Soon enough, Harry found himself and the rest of the first years being led out of the great hall by the two fifth year Hufflepuff prefects. A smile graced his face as he committed the first time he had gotten to eat his fill to memory. _Hogwarts really _is _magical_.

…~oOo~…

**A.N.** Thanks for reading everyone!

Be honest, how many of you genuinely thought Harry would end up in Hufflepuff? (not you, Descending Madness, I'm fairly certain you figured it out from our conversations).

Also Check out the Poll I have on my profile, it's about what you want Harry to do with the Basilisk

Once more, thanks for taking the time to read this story. Don't forget to drop me a **review** telling me what you thought.

Blddmn.


	6. Skipping Class Already

**In My Head**

**Disclaimer:**

I neither own the rights to the Harry Potter franchise, nor do I make any money by writing this; it is a work of fanfiction.

**A quick note** on the lesson plans. They were an absolute b*tch to do! I've made it so that there are four one hour and ten minute slots throughout the day in which classes can happen. This is simply because there are not enough core lessons or teachers to have a proper timetable (even with the four period day it was difficult). Changes I've made include having two teachers for each subject; these teachers being assigned to every other year group who go through their whole Hogwarts careers with them teaching that subject. There are now also free periods which can be used to attend workshops in which wizards can keep on top of the three R's – **R**eading, w**R**iting, and a**R**ithmetic – something that always bothered me in the books was the complete lack of proper academia. I take some sort of evidence for this from the films; in GOF we see Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, George and Angelina working in a hall on some sort of assignment with Snape watching over them (the part where Fred asks Angelina to the ball), as they clearly don't take classes together yet Snape enforces a rule of silence, I took the liberty of explaining it through the students having to attend workshops so that they can keep on top of being able to write academically, figure out basic mathematics (or more complicated mathematics if they take Arithmancy), as well as read increasingly difficult texts for their OWLs and NEWTs. Oh yeah, and flying lesson now has all four houses in it. Rant over.

This chapter goes out to J.F.C. For suggesting this aspect gets moved forward =).

…~oOo~…

**Chapter Six**

Skipping Class Already

Harry lined up along with the rest of the first years outside the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room. It turned out that the Hufflepuff's living quarters were situated not far from the great hall at all; in fact, they were simply one floor down and a corridor away.

"All right everyone," called out Gabriel Truman, the male fifth year prefect. He was standing in front of a stack of barrels in a nook at the end of the corridor. "This is the entrance to our common room. As you can imagine, we don't want members of the other houses just wandering in willy-nilly, so we have a nifty little trick for making sure it's a Hufflepuff trying to get in."

Harry watched with rapt attention as the prefect lifted his hand and taped five times on the barrel situated in the middle of the second row. As he tapped, the wood of the barrel he said 'Helga Hufflepuff' with each syllable matching the timing of his striking the barrel.

A split second later, there was a slight grating sound as the barrels to the right of the one that Gabriel had used slid sideways into the wall, revealing a large round doorway that was completely blocked off by wall of earth.

"Now you may not know this," Truman said as he approached the earthen door, "But Hufflepuff is the most secure house in the whole of Hogwarts. They say that nobody outside of our house has set foot in the Hufflepuff common room for over one thousand years."

"_I have_," Tom put in smugly.

_Shhhhh!_ Harry hushed him.

"We are the only house in the school to use two layers of protection for our common room," Gabriel continued. "The earthen door will bar any non Hufflepuff's from gaining entry; it also blocks those within our house who are looking to cause trouble inside."

_How did you get in if it blocks non Hufflepuffs_? Harry asked Tom.

"_It doesn't block non Hufflepuffs,_" Tom replied, "_The earthen door only works on the idea of blocking people intent on trouble. As breaking into another Houses' common room constitutes just that, the earthen door doesn't let most outsiders in._"

_So how did you manage_? Harry pressed.

"_Occlumency,_" Tom's tone made it clear that the answer should have been obvious. Harry felt this most unfair as Tom had only told him about it a short while ago during the feast. "_By opening the barrels, you are also activating a concealed ward within the earthen door that scans the surface thoughts of those trying to get past it. By occluding the mind you become unreadable, and as such, able to travel through the door unhindered_."

"How do you get through though?" Susan Bones asked from behind Harry. "The door seems shut to me, and there's no handle."

"Easy, you just walk through it," Gabriel said with a grin.

"And what if it doesn't work?" Justin piped in.

"Then you get a face full of soil," Gabriel laughed out after his pronouncement.

Harry, having no intention of walking straight into a wall of dirt without proof that it worked, decided to simply stare at the fifth year prefect until the older boy shrugged his shoulders and strolled on through the earthen door.

Having been satisfied that they wouldn't find themselves quite literally soiled, the first years followed suit and walked straight through the doorway.

Upon reaching the other side, Harry was pleased to find himself in wide, well lit room full of comfortable looking chairs and soft, plush carpets. The ceiling seemed to be low by Hogwarts standards, but was still high enough to allow enough headroom for even the tallest of the seventh years to go about unimpeded.

Looking about he was able to see that there were no fewer than three fireplaces scattered about the room, keeping the vast space at a comfortable temperature. The colour scheme could only be described as 'earthy' giving off a distinctively homely and warm feeling.

"_Just as I remember it,_" Tom interrupted Harry's observations, "_the whole place is far too pleasant, it's a wonder these Hufflepuff's ever find the will to do anything._"

_It does seem cosy enough to just spend a whole day lazing around in_, Harry agreed.

"_It does indeed. Well at least it's better than that pigsty the Gryffindor's have_."

"Alright then first years, time to send you lot off to bed," Gabriel said once all the first years had gotten through the earthen door. "Girls are through the door to the left, boys to the right. Each door has a placard with your year on it so they won't be hard to find. Off you trot now!"

With that, Harry and the rest of the first year boys headed through the round wooden door at the far right of the room which led them into a corridor that ran parallel to the side of the common room. The opposite wall had seven doors evenly spaced out along it, each bearing the aforementioned placard with a year group designation.

"By Jove! What a dreadfully small room," Justin exclaimed in shock as they entered the first year boy's dormitory.

"Hardly seems possible that you could fit four people in here," Zach agreed.

Harry stared at them in disbelief while Ernie laughed openly at just how sheltered the two other boy's must have been for the last eleven years of their lives (something Harry found peculiar as Ernie was definitely the most pompous of the group).

"Well I think it's wonderful," Harry said with a shake of his head. He then proceeded to walk over to the four poster bed (all done up in the black and yellow Hufflepuff colours) at the bottom of which his trunk resided. Slipping quickly into his pyjamas, Harry then headed off to the adjoining bathroom to get himself ready for bed. Tomorrow would doubtless be a busy day.

…~oOo~…

"Rise and shine firsties!" A voice boomed as the curtains were magically drawn from around the beds in which the sleeping forms of Harry, Justin, Ernie and Zach could be found.

Three of the four boys shrieked in terror at their rude awakening, Ernie even managed to fallout of the bed. Harry on the other hand slid out from underneath the covers and was standing waiting to receive further orders in a flash (years of conditioning under the Dursley's had given him a remarkable ability to keep his head in just about any situation. Plus the need to be awake to avoid Dudley's beatings meant that Harry never felt groggy when he woke up; he was always ready to move).

"Well then, now that you lot are all up you had best get ready so we can head up to the hall for breakfast," Gabriel smirked at them as he stowed his wand away. "Chop chop!"

After a frantic scramble to get themselves ready, the first year Hufflepuff boys found themselves reunited once more with the girls and the whole lot of them were soon being issued out of the common room and up towards the great hall.

"So what did you boys think of your dormitory?" Susan asked the group as they made their way towards breakfast.

"It's rather small," Justin piped up immediately, clearly still in a state of disbelief over the abject squalor he must see their dorms as being in.

"_That boy was most certainly born with a silver spoon in his mouth,_" Tom chuckled to himself, rather amused at the idea of the rich boy having to live like a 'normal' person.

"I rather liked it, actually," Harry contradicted in a pleasant enough tone.

The group of them soon found themselves sat at the furthest end of the Hufflepuff table from the door. Already the table was covered in the various types of food that Harry was used to cooking for the Dursleys in the morning. Sausages, bacon, eggs (fried, scrambled, boiled, or any which way one could imagine), hash browns, toast, and that most loathsome of substances; black pudding.

Moving away from the full English type foods were the various fruits (both dried and fresh) and of course the cereals. The cereals, however, seemed to be suffering from the wizarding world's cultural stagnation as they were limited to simple porridge like substances, albeit some would have a drizzle of honey added.

Harry, along with the rest of the first years, started tucking in almost immediately. He, Hannah, Megan, and Sally-Anne all simply piling on the foods they wanted and chowing down with abandon (Tom's complaints about Harry's barbarism going unheeded) while the others acted with much more decorum.

"By Merlin, you four," Susan laughed as Harry chopped away at his third sausage, "It's as if you've never eaten before in your life."

Harry gulped a mouthful of pumpkin juice to wash down the sausage, "You don't know the half of it, Susan," he said, only half joking. Thankfully, his not quite tongue-in-cheek comment wasn't put under scrutiny thanks to the arrival of their head of house, Professor Sprout, who was handing out the class schedules.

"Good morning, first years," she smiled genially at them as she stopped by them. She was a rather squat woman with her greying, flyaway hair squashed haphazardly under her pointed hat. "I trust you're all excited to start your lessons?" She smiled happily at them as the first years all nodded and mumbled in the affirmative.

"Excellent!" she exclaimed once she was satisfied that they were excited enough, "Now, remember that the most important thing is to have fun while you're here. And be sure to remember that my office door is always open to you any time after classes that you may need to talk, be it to voice your concerns or just because you want a chat."

Harry seriously doubted that she was fine with having students just drop in willy-nilly for the sole purpose of talking to her, but it was a nice sentiment and probably worked to give a sense of comfort to any of his fellow firsties that may be feeling homesick. Of course, a decade of living with the Dursleys had jaded Harry to the point where even he could tell the gesture wasn't wholly sincere.

"_You're putting too much thought into this, Harry_," Tom interrupted Harry's observation. "_And stop thinking of yourself as _jaded_; it's as if you forget that you had me for company your entire life._"

_Stop pretending to be offended_, Harry jibed back. _I suppose you want me to leave the brooding to you then?_

"_Undoubtedly_," Tom deadpanned.

"Anyway, here are your schedules," Professor Sprout said as she started handing out the sheets of parchment. Harry muttered a polite 'thank you' as soon as he had his in hand before looking down at his timetable.

**Harry Potter. Hufflepuff: First year.**

**Monday**

09:10-11:20 History of Magic (with Slytherin)

11:20-12:30 Charms (with Slytherin)

13:40-14:50 Workshop: Mathematics

14:50-16:00 Workshop: Academic writing

**Tuesday**

09:10-11:20 Potions (with Ravenclaw)

11:20-12:30 Potions (with Ravenclaw)

13:40-14:50 Transfiguration (with Gryffindor)

14:50-16:00 Workshop: Literacy

**Wednesday**

09:10-11:20 DADA (with Ravenclaw)

11:20-12:30 DADA (with Ravenclaw)

13:40-14:50 Workshop: Mathematics

14:50-16:00 Workshop: Literacy

**Thursday**

09:10-11:20 Herbology (with Gryffindor)

11:20-12:30 Herbology (with Gryffindor)

13:40-14:50 Charms (with Slytherin)

14:50-16:00 Workshop: Academic writing

**Friday**

09:10-11:20 Transfiguration (with Gryffindor)

11:20-12:30 History of Magic (with Slytherin)

13:40-14:50 Workshop: Flying/recreational sports

14:50-16:00 (Free)

**Please refer to the Astronomy chart on your Common room notice board for class times (class times may change based on weather or the occurrence of an astrological phenomenon).**

"So we're with the Slytherins all morning… great," Zacharias said sarcastically as he looked at his own timetable.

"And they say that history of magic is the_ most_ boring subject taught here," Susan joined in, a slight pout marring her features.

"Really? I was really looking forward to the history class," Justin put in, mirroring Harry's own sentiments.

"Well he's a ghost isn't he, isn't able to keep up with modern teaching standards and whatnot," Ernie said knowledgably.

"Shouldn't it be _more_ interesting, having a teacher for a ghost?" Harry asked.

"_Oh yes, because all the other teachers being so horribly alive makes the whole magic thing rather dull_," Tom quipped before any of the children had formulated an answer.

"You'd think so," Susan answered speculatively, "but everyone says he's utterly useless, even aunty!"

"Aunty says so? Then it must be true," Hannah said with mock enthusiasm. Harry was sure Susan was about to hit her, however the two girls simply burst into simultaneous laughter. _Women, honestly!_

"_Don't even try to figure it out, Harry_," Tom warned him seriously.

_Not planning on it_, Harry replied.

"So what's the point of having history of magic if it's so rubbish? Sally-Anne asked.

"_Anti Goblin propaganda_," Tom muttered.

"Not really sure there is one," replied Ernie. "Not that it matters, history of magic is a core subject up until we pass our OWLs."

"It's probably not as bad as all that anyway," Justin supplied hopefully, "I'm sure that Professor Dumbledore wouldn't here an incompetent teacher."

Tom snorted.

The first years continued discussing their upcoming classes for the rest of breakfast, each of them highly excited about using their new wands in the upcoming charms lesson, and none of them looking forward to the upcoming mathematics and academic writing workshops.

"Alright then, you lot," Truman appeared right behind Harry at the end of breakfast, "I've been assigned the dubious pleasure of escorting you to your first lesson." He grinned at the group of first years and started ushering them out of their seats before leading them from the hall.

"_Take the next corridor on the right_," Tom said suddenly as they reached the second floor.

_History class is on the fourth floor Tom,_ Harry pointed out as he continued following Truman with the other first years.

"_Forget history, Harry. Binns is absolutely useless; and I have a real piece of Hogwarts history that I think you should see_," Tom pressed, his voice injecting an air of mystery to the words.

_I'll get in trouble_, Harry shot back, now starting to drift towards the back of the group as they waited for the staircase to get in the correct place for them to ascend.

"_Binn's was dead before I was at Hogwarts, Harry,_" Tom continued despite Harry's protestation, "_and even then he didn't know any of the students by name. Trust me, I've thought of a much better introduction to Hogwarts than anything Cuthbert Binns could come up with._"

_Not doing it_, Harry replied sternly.

"_Fine, I'll not show you the chamber of secrets then,_" Tom retorted with an air of disappointment. "_But don't you go asking me about it later, I'll remember that you're not at all interested._"

Harry made a noise of frustration, causing Ernie to look back at him quizzically.

"Hey Ernie, would you save me a seat in class? I've left my book back in my trunk," Harry asked the boy quickly, trying to inject an appropriate level of worry into his tone without sounding too pleading. _This chamber had better be worth it!_

"Umm, of course, Harry. You could always share-" Ernie replied.

"Thanks Ernie, see you in a minute!" Harry cut him off, smiling disarmingly as he about faced and dashed down the nearest corridor. Behind him the staircase had just arrived.

…~oOo~…

"I'm not going in _there!_" Harry said aloud as he stood in the currently deserted corridor.

"_It's the easiest way into the chamber,_" Tom replied with not a small amount of frustration. "_For Merlin's sake, Harry, it's only a girl's bathroom! We've been standing here for a good five minutes now; just pull your socks up and get on with it._"

_But what if there are girls in there?_ Harry pressed, now remembering not to talk to Tom aloud, yet still terrified at the possibility of being discovered in a girl's toilet (such an act is not the done thing!).

"_Oh for pity's sake, Harry,_" Tom sighed in exasperation."_If it's bothering you so much then just cast a Homenum Revelio charm_."

_What the Hell is a 'Homenum Revelio charm'?_ Harry shot back, even his inner voice was getting rather high pitched with nervousness.

"_Bah! It's a pretty easy piece of pygmy Latin to figure out. I'll teach it to you later_. _Now stop this nonsense and get in there or I'll project images of what your aunt and uncle do when they think Dudley's gone to bed into your thoughts_!" Tom snapped.

_You wouldn't dare_!

"_We've been here for over five minutes now!_" Tom asserted in exaggerated annoyance (he didn't really get very angry at Harry, but felt that something had to be done to move the boy along). "_Now get in there before I treat you to procreation 101 courtesy of Vernon Dursley!_"

Harry opened the door.

"_About time!_"

"Shut up, you," Harry whispered aloud as he looked about the deserted bathroom, silently thanking his good luck that the room was currently bereft of anybody that could identify him. This room (along with all the other bathrooms in the castle) was singularly unique within the décor of Hogwarts in that it represented the sole piece of modernity that had been able to permeate the wizarding world; plumbing. This created a noticeable contrast with the rest of the medieval castle, and a not at all unwelcome one considering just how useful a properly working lavatory system was!

"So where's this chamber then?" Harry muttered, looking around in an attempt to spot the hidden door before Tom pointed it out.

"_That sink, over there_," Tom told him. "_The one you're facing right now_."

_And that's the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets?_ Harry asked, switching back to speaking only in his head as he walked towards the sink in question.

"_Built by Salazar Slytherin himself,_" Tom said with near reverence.

Harry pulled up short.

_Hold on, did you just say this was built by Salazar Slytherin?_ Harry asked as he eyed the sink curiously.

"_Yes..._"

_Then how the hell did he manage to build a secret entrance using a sink that had yet to be invented?_ Harry asked, starting to seriously doubt the veracity of Tom's claims for some sort of mystical chamber. He probably just didn't want to go to History of Magic, thus concocting a fantastical story for Harry to follow like an idiot.

"_It is not a fantastical story!_" Tom rebuked, incensed at the accusation. "_There really is a chamber underneath the school, and it's entrance is behind that sink!_"

_Right..._ Harry trailed off as he walked the final few steps towards the sink, deciding to humour Tom for now. _So how do I open it then?_

"_Just say open."_

"Open," Harry said, looking at an engraving of a snake on the side of the tap.

"_In Parseltounge, you dolt._"

"Open," Harry said again, frowning at Tom's name calling.

"_That was just as English as the last time, try imagining talking to a snake_," Tom said, deciding to helpful.

"_Open_," Harry said again, the words coming out as a hiss.

In response to the serpentine voice, the sink itself suddenly started to move, shifting backwards slightly and sinking into the floor, revealing a tunnel with a steep drop downwards.

"Wicked," Harry grinned as he looked at the entrance to the chamber. All thoughts of historical continuity errors, plumbing, and the impossibility of this place still being a secret leaving his mind as he was overcome with the sort of boyish enthusiasm in the face of adventure. "How do we get down?"

"_Just say stairs in Parcel-HARRY!_" Tom cut off his instruction with a shout of annoyance as Harry, instead of listening, decided it would be much more fun to simply use the tunnel as a slide. After all, he could easily get Tom to show him a spell to clean off whatever gunk ended up on his robes from the drop.

Harry let out a whoop of gleeful excitement as he shot down the chute; relishing in the adrenaline rush provided by the steep gradient and slick surface he was sliding down producing a large increase in speed.

Eventually (all too soon in Harry's opinion, and not soon enough in Tom's) the chute levelled out and Harry came skidding do a halt at the opening of the large pipe. All about him was covered in darkness, but Harry had the feeling that he was in some sort of cave; the ancient dampness and chill of the place seeping into his body as the adrenaline from his drop wore off.

"_Next time, we're taking the stairs!_ Tom grumbled as Harry squinted in the dark."_Cast the Lumos spell_."

_Don't know it,_ he thought back, now beginning to feel nervous. Sure, he'd never been scared of the dark before; after being licked in his cupboard so many times how could he? But in this unfamiliar place he was acutely aware that nobody knew where he was and how to get him out if he couldn't do so himself.

"_Its' not that hard to learn_," Tom told him right before flashing mental images of wand movements right though Harry's mind. Harry dutifully practised the wand motion a few times before giving the actual incantation a try.

"Lumos," He said, making sure he timed it right as he performed the wand movement required.

Nothing Happened.

"_You botched the wand movement,_" Tom informed him, his voice holding a slight tone of rebuke, although Harry could tell he was not being unkind. "_Focus less on saying the words in time and more on the wand motion; it's much more important."_

Steeling himself for his next attempt, Harry let out a few slow breaths to help him relax. Once he felt settled and centred enough he once again raised his wand in front of him.

"Lumos," he incanted once more. This time, much to his and Tom's delight, the tip of Harry's wand lit up with pale light. Looking about him, Harry was now able to see that he was standing in a cavern; stalactites and stalagmites seemed to be all around him, and there was a pervasive damp look to the entire area. He could also see that at the far end of the cavern was a large metal door, engraved with the images of snakes.

Walking steadily forward, Harry became aware of the crunching sound his feet made. Looking down he almost jumped in shock as he realised that the crunching noise was coming from him trampling dozens of animal bones underfoot.

_What the hell is down here?_ He asked Tom as he advanced on the door.

"_You'll see soon enough,_" Tom replied, an almost sing-song lilt in his voice. The sound of Tom being so excited and or happy was cause enough for Harry to quake in terror.

_This had better not be like that time you convinced me to give Aunt Marge laxatives..._ Harry thought furiously, remembering the horror that had ensued.

"_You know perfectly well that everything was going fine until she gave Ripper her leftovers,_" Tom protested.

_Yeah, and then I had to spend the whole of the next day cleaning dog crap_, Harry recalled with a pang of anguish. _How it got on the ceiling is beyond me._

"_That was rather unfortunate, yes_," Tom agreed with him.

Harry was extremely glad that Tom had never tried to attempt to cheer Harry up using practical jokes after that point. If he thought back hard enough, he was sure he could still smell the foulness of Ripper's excrement.

_So, how do I open this door?_ He asked; their conversation having distracted him from the animal bones littered about him between the pipe and the door.

"_Same way as the sink_," Tom informed him.

_Seriously?_ Harry asked incredulously. _What sort of secret Chamber uses 'open' as the password?_

"_Well, to be fair, I have to say that there are not that many Parseltongues about, so the chances of someone stumbling upon the entrance is actually quite slim,_" Tom defended the (in Harry's opinion) idiocy of whoever set the password. "_Besides, it needed to be simple for the heir to get in, not to mention the beast to get out._"

_And the person who opened this place up and installed all the plumbing doesn't count, I take it?_ Harry quipped before belatedly latching onto something Tom had said. _Hang on, did you say 'the beast?'"_

"_Maybe I did,_" Tom replied quizzically.

_I really hate you sometimes_, Harry snidely shot back. Deciding that he may as well get this foolishness over with (and not allowing Tom to notice that he was actually rather excited at the prospect of a hidden chamber) he turned to the door and once again hissed "open."

As expected, the door started to move, revealing yet another stretch of darkness.

_Honestly, a well lit secret chamber; that's all I ask for,_ Harry bemoaned as he stepped through the doorway and used the light his wand emitted to guide him. Thankfully, as soon as he set foot in the chamber torches started to burst into light all along the walls. That the torches were all situated in the mouths of large snakes carved out of the stone didn't particularly bother Harry.

What _did _bother him, however, was the huge statue of a wizard that could only be Salazar Slytherin that adorned the wall in front of him.

_So he built a statue of himself, in his secret chamber that only he could get into..._ Harry was astounded by the shameless narcissism of it all.

"_A fine statue,_" Tom said reverently. "_And to keep it a secret for close to a thousand years..."_

_ Except for the plumber_, Harry reminded him with a smirk. Inside his mind he could practically feel Tom's mental scowl.

"_Now, go up to the statue and say: 'Speak to me Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts four,'" _Tom told him.

_Right... why?_ Harry queried, not wishing to betray his loyalty to house Hufflepuff (although had it been Ravenclaw he might not of minded. He was still rather upset over that).

"_To unleash Slytherin's beast, of course,_" Tom said as if it were the most obvious thing.

_Why didn't you say so sooner?_ Harry snarked. _And why the hell should I release some beast on the school?_

"_Who said anything on unleashing it on the school?" _Tom asked, genuinely perplexed. "_I just thought it would make a good pet_."

Harry let out a long 'hmmm' noise as he weighed up the pros and cons of releasing whatever Slytherin's monster was.

On the one hand, it probably wasn't called a monster for nothing, it was probably rather dangerous. Furthermore, Slytherin wasn't exactly known for being a nice guy, so the monster would likely be something _really _dangerous.

On the other hand, he was only eleven, and what eleven year old boy doesn't want a cool monster for a pet, not to mention a chamber only he could access to use as his secret layer. Maybe it could be like the bat cave from those comics Dudley sometimes read (although Harry was sure at times that even the text in comic books was too much for his cousin).

After a moment of thought, Harry simply shrugged his shoulders and looked up at the face of the monstrously large statue.

"_Open_," he hissed. Hoping that he wouldn't have to say the silly password that Tom had given him. _Seriously_, he thought, _if Slytherin set that password then he must have loved himself more than Dudley loves cake._

The statue's mouth started to open. Tom snorted in mild annoyance at his password not being necessary.

Harry watched with an excited nervousness as something very large started to move in the darkness behind of Salazar Slytherin's oversized mouth. Something very large indeed.

Harry suddenly realised that he had no idea what the creature was and no way to control it; two things that any boy adventurer could tell you were not conducive to surviving an encounter with a dangerous beast.

As such, Harry turned and started to run back towards the door.

"_What are you doing!?_" Tom bellowed in his head. "_Don't run or it will think you are prey!_"

Slowing, Harry cast a frightened glance over his shoulder and, to his horror, saw a gigantic snake uncoiling on the stone floor. He carried on running.

"_Harry. STOP!_" Tom commanded, his voice firm and powerful. "_You can speak to snakes, you can command it!_"

Harry halted his retreat. Steeling his nerves he turned back to face the creature. The snake was somewhere between forty and fifty feet long by Harry's estimate, and its maw was large enough to swallow him whole if it so wished. Flicking his gaze across its features, harry noticed that the creature's bright yellow eyes were covered over by a milky film, possibly a secondary eyelid.

"What is it?" Harry murmured aloud as the creature moved towards him, his voice barely a whisper.

"_She's a Basilisk, Harry,_" Tom told him, his voice laced with pride (though what he was proud of Harry did not know). "_She is probably the most dangerous beast in all of England. Her venom is the strongest known in the Magical world, her hide is all but impervious to spell fire, and her gaze is utterly lethal._"

Harry screwed his eyes shut as Tom said the last bit, his heart rate sky-rocketing despite having come to no harm when looking at the beast's eyes but a moment ago.

"_Don't worry, Harry,_" Tom chuckled, "_Her vision is only deadly when she removes that milky lens covering her eye._"

Harry opened his eyes reluctantly. In front of him the huge snake was tasting the air around him by flicking out a huge forked tongue, and seemed to be sniffing at him (though Harry couldn't quite be sure).

After a few tense moments in which Harry became increasingly certain that the Basilisk was going to eat him, the creature let out a long hiss.

"_Who you?_" it hissed as it fixed him with its milky yellow stare.

"_Umm... Harry,_" he hissed back, his heart hammering so hard he thought the Basilisk must be able to hear it. "_And you?_"

"_I Snake_," the Basilisk replied, its voice held a strangely feminine quality that Harry would not have expected from the reptilian creature.

"_You have got to be kidding me..._" Harry mumbled, not realising that his words came out as a hiss.

"_Kid?_" the snake latched onto his muttered word with excitement, "_There goats here? I been so hungry, so long. Can has goat?_"

"_Umm... sorry, Snake, I don't have any goats,_" Harry apologised, feeling awkward as the huge Basilisk somehow managed to stare pleadingly at him. Even more odd was how the Basilisk seemed to deflate at his words, a sad sigh escaping its huge maw.

_Tom,_ Harry thought angrily, _what the hell am I meant to do now?_

"_Well, you freed it, so you're her master now,_" Tom chuckled.

Harry frowned, did he really want to be responsible for the Basilisk?

Unfortunately, he wasn't given a chance to make up his mind, as the huge creature prodded him with the end of her tail, nearly knocking him to the floor.

"_I hungry_," she hissed, fixing him once more with her stare.

_Why does she talk like that?_ Harry asked Tom as he steadied himself.

"_It's a snake, Harry,_" Tom pointed out deadpan. "_They are not renowned for their linguistic skills._"

_Fair enough_. "_So, Snake, do you not have anywhere you can get food?_" Harry asked off the top of his head. "_No hunting grounds nearby?_"

"_First Master say I eat what I want. Second master say I eat from forest. Third Master..._"

Harry stopped listening at this point, not really overly interested in what all the Basilisk's Masters had told it to eat. A simple yes or no answer would have sufficed. Instead of listening to the huge snake, Harry took another look around the chamber.

All along the walls there were pipes built in at ground level, with each of these pipes being large enough for the Basilisk to fit into.

_What are all the pipes for? Are they all entrances to the Chamber of Secrets?_ Harry asked Tom as the Basilisk continued talking (it was now talking about when it was allowed to travel to a distant lake to find prey there; Harry had a strange feeling she was talking about Loch Ness).

"_I don't think so,_" Tom replied. "_From my understanding most of these pipes are used for intelligence gathering. There are only three entrances that I know of; the one in the bathroom, one in the forest, and one under the lake._"

_What do you mean 'intelligence gathering?'_ Harry queried.

"_The pipes run all through the castle,_" Tom informed him. "_You could listen to conversations in just about any part of Hogwarts, if you so desired_."

_But these pipes are huge,_" Harry pointed out. _There's no way that people wouldn't have noticed the giant pipes running all through the castle._

"_Undetectable expansion charm_," Tom replied smugly. "_With the chamber being the only way to get into the pipes, nobody would be any the wiser to the secret network running all through the castle._"

_Clever_.

"_Indeed._"

"_And the last Master say I kill one human female, but not eat it. Last Master say I go to sleep after that. No food for Snake,_" The basilisk finished mournfully. Harry turned his attention back to the huge beast.

"_So why don't you go hunting in the forest, or one of the lakes you mentioned?_" He asked the creature.

"_Okay_," it hissed by way of reply as it started to slither towards one of the tunnels.

_Wait... what?_ "_Hold on, where are you going?_" Harry shouted after the Basilisk.

"_Hunting_."

"_Fine, but I want to give you a name first, something more personal than Snake._"

The basilisk stopped and turned its massive head to face him.

"_It has to be something regal,_" Tom told him seriously. "_Basilisks are the Kings of serpents._"

_The King, you say?_

_ "What shall new Master call I then?"_ the basilisk queried.

"_Elvis_," Harry hissed with a massive grin on his face.

"_Yes Master,_" the creature replied as it turned back towards its tunnel. "_Elvis go hunt now._"

Harry watched as Elvis slithered out of sight, presumably towards either the forest or lake exit. Now alone once again, he had a sudden realisation that if he didn't get back soon then he would miss charms; and that just wasn't on!

Turning around, Harry made his way back through the entrance to the chamber and into the cavern with the bathroom entrance chute in it.

_Is there any way I can get up the tunnel quickly?_ Harry asked as he marched towards the large pipe.

"_Unless you know how to fly you'll need to ask it for stairs_," Tom told him. "_And really, Elvis?_"

_You said it was a King, _Harry pointed out with a grin.

"_I also said it was a girl,_" Tom harrumphed.

"_Stairs_," Harry hissed as he reached the chute. _I still think the name works, and I'm sure Elvis will like having a proper name._"

Tom maid a sort of anguished groaning sound.

Chuckling slightly to himself, Harry resigned himself to a long and possibly torturous climb up the stairs on the long pipe. Stupid Tom and his stupid chamber! At least he got a bad-ass snake out of it.

...~oOo~...

**A.N. **Well that one has been a while in the works. Sorry it took me so long to post this; I've been crazy busy over the past few months. I really hope the wait was worth it.

Don't forget to tell me what you thought in a **review**.

Thanks again,

blddmn


	7. Charms and an Introduction to Politics

**In My Head**

**Disclaimer:**

I neither own the rights to the Harry Potter franchise, nor do I make any money by writing this; it is a work of fanfiction. (Kudos to the first person to notice the Monty Python reference).

...~IMH~...

...~IMH~...

**Chapter Seven**

Charms and an Introduction to Politics

"Where on earth did you run off to?" Justin asked as soon as Harry caught up with the other first year Hufflepuffs.

"Not a clue," Harry said dishonestly, hoping that his attempt at a winning grin would put the others at ease enough to accept that he'd just gotten lost.

"You know, I wouldn't have minded if you'd borrowed my history book," Justin pointed out.

"I wouldn't want to impose," Harry countered.

Thankfully, Susan chose that point to change the line of conversation. "Not that it matters, boys," she said as she and Hannah caught one of Harry's arms each and started to frog march him down the corridor, once again getting the group moving. "We'll be late for charms if we don't hurry up, and I for one have no intention of missing what should be a decent lesson after that rubbish history lesson."

"Was it really that bad?" Harry asked while trying to get his arms free (he was not at all accustomed to so much touching).

"Ernie fell asleep, Justin drew a portrait of Binns, Zach spent the entire lesson playing tic-tac-toe with Megan, and the rest of us just spent the whole time gossiping," Susan said, counting off each member of their group on her fingers.

"Sounds productive," Harry quipped as he managed to wriggle free of the two girls.

"It was actually," Hannah put in as she threw a mock glare at Harry for escaping. "That is, if you're at all interested in Hogwarts politics."

"_Don't ask,_" Tom muttered at just the same time as Harry asked "What's that?"

"Basically, most of the influential families send their kids to Hogwarts so they can get to know their peers and start to form their own alliances for future political careers," Susan informed him.

"Others send their kids for the 'Hogwarts experience,'" Hannah added. "That's the main reason my parents sent me instead of having me home tutored. Its the same for most halfbloods here."

"And the muggleborns usually get in on the Hogwarts scholarship fund," Susan finished.

Harry let out a groan, the sudden realisation that he'd have to worry about making alliances and such sinking in. _Why can't I just do normal kid things, like play football and not have to worry about who my future adversaries are going to be?_

"_I told you not to ask,_" Tom pointed out, "_Now you can't claim ignorance_."

_Shut up_.

"Speaking of, Harry," Ernie joined in. "Do you think you'll align more with the Dark families or the Light ones?"

"How do you tell the difference?" Harry asked.

"Just look at their behaviour, really," Ernie replied. "The Dark families traditionally vote for less secrecy more power. The Light families go for the opposite."

"How did they get tagged with light and dark then?" Harry asked, genuinely confused. "That has nothing to do with types of magic."

"True, but Dark families usually practice the Dark Arts in secret," Ernie told him, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

"So couldn't you have a 'Dark family' that supports the views held by the light ones?" Harry asked, trying not to smirk as Tom chuckled.

Of course, when faced with such an unusual question, Ernie, Susan and Hannah all looked highly confused and exchanged several questioning glances. The silliness of the situation almost caused Harry to chuckle (only not doing so because of how irritated he was at being stuck in the political training ground for the wizarding world's future elite).

"I suppose that's possible," Ernie finally said, his voice sounding utterly unconvinced.

"So what are the main political parties then?" Harry asked, deciding that he may as well find out what sort of a mess he was going to be sucked into.

"Parties?" Susan sounded seriously confused by the term.

"_Oh this should be good_," Tom chortled while Harry felt an increasing level of dread rising in the pit of his stomach. All through his childhood he'd been kept informed of politics (having the TV always within hearing distance when he was locked in his cupboard meant that he heard every time Vernon went on a rant about 'those useless liberals' when the news was on).

"You know, the political factions?" Harry suggested tentatively.

"Duh, we just told you," Ernie laughed, "light and dark."

"_They don't have parties, Harry,_" Tom informed him, much to Harry's horror. "_Candidates for the position of Minister for Magic go through a vote at the Wizengamot. Whoever gets the most votes wins._"

"So how do the people who aren't on the Wizengamot vote?" Harry asked.

"They don't," Susan replied, completely unconcernedly.

Harry felt his mouth drop open (_no voting?!_) and was just about to ask a flurry of angry questions when a door just in front of them opened and a tiny little man walked out to start ushering them into class, his presence causing Harry to close his mouth with an audible snap.

Filing into the classroom, Harry noticed that the Slytherins had already made it inside and were filling out half of the seats.

Deciding that he'd rather not risk upsetting Susan, Ernie, and Hannah by going on about wizarding politics, Harry moved swiftly into over to the Slytherins and sat next to Blaise Zabini with Megan Jones taking the seat on his other side.

"Hey, Harry," Blaise whispered to him as Professor Flitwick started the class roll call.

"Hey, how're things going in Slytherin?" Harry asked the other boy.

"Shit, if you'll pardon my French," Blaise whispered with a smirk. "Malfoy and Nott are both vying for control of the first years and there's some weird feud going on between our Quiditch captain, Marcus Flint, and our seventh year prefects."

Harry almost hit his head off the desk in frustration. "More politics?"

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Blaise grinned by way of an answer.

"At least we haven't had it that bad in Hufflepuff – here, Professor," Harry answered as his name was called.

"It's worst in Slytherin and Ravenclaw," Blaise informed him before answering as his name was called. Any further conversation was cut off as their diminutive teacher started explaining what they would be doing today.

"Now class, I've got something very fun lined up for you today," he said as he hopped down from his desk and walked towards the centre of the room, where stood a life sized mannequin. "Doubtless you've all been eager to put those wands of yours to good use."

The tiny Professor looked at the class as they all nodded and muttered their agreement, their eleven year old faces nearly shining with excitement.

"So today I'll be teaching you a handy little jinx that you can use whenever you end up duelling on the school grounds," the Professor continued with a chuckle. "Now, this spell is covered in the Standard Book of Spells: Grade 2, but is such an easy one to use that I teach it before anything else."

"The spell itself is known as the Knockback Jinx, and is a nifty power to purpose spell that can be used to knock people over," the Professor smiled at them as he saw many of them (mostly the boys) grinning excitedly at the idea of knocking each other over with magic. "Now, let me demonstrate."

Professor Flitwick then turned to face the mannequin and with an overemphasised wand movement cast "Flipendo!" in a clear voice.

Harry watched in amazement as a ball of bright light shot from the end of Flitwick's wand and hit the mannequin square in the chest, sending it flying across the room (to the glee of the first years).

"Now, why don't we all get into little groups and practice on each other then? I've charmed the whole room with cushioning charms so don't worry about knocking your friends into things. It will just be like playing in a muggle bouncing fortress!" the Professor told them excitedly. "I've put the wand movement and phonetic spelling on the blackboard so you should all be able to pick it up by the end of the lesson."

Immediately there was a rush of young people dashing about as everyone formed groups and started shooting spells at each other. Harry found himself with Megan and Blaise, who had been sitting next to him, along with Millicent Bulstrode, a hulking girl who strongly resembled the Crabbe boy who was in a group with Malfoy.

"What's a bouncing fortress?" Millicent asked the group at large in a gravelly voice as they moved to an empty part of the classroom.

"I think it's called a bouncy castle, it's a sort of inflatable room type thing that muggle children play in," Harry replied, ducking out of the way as Malfoy sent Pansy Parkinson hurtling across the classroom into a particularly springy looking desk.

"You think? Didn't you grow up in the muggle world? Flipendo!" Blaise asked as he cast at Ernie MacMillan who wasn't even in their group (when glared at by said Hufflepuff boy he said he was aiming at Harry).

"Yeah, but my aunt never let me go on one," Harry answered with a shrug. "Now hold still. Flipendoh!"

Blaise winced as Harry's spell made him stumble back a couple of steps and immediately cast the spell back at Harry who managed to dodge out of the way.

"You overemphasised the 'o' sound at the end, Harry," Megan told him kindly. "Try more like this, Flipendo!"

Harry hadn't been expecting her to shoot at him, and as such found himself flying away from the group as her spell connected with his chest and into a chair.

"_Well to the void with that!_" Tom suddenly piped up as Harry pulled himself from an undignified pile on the floor. "_Forget the wand motions, just push extra power through with the spell._"

Heeding Tom's advice, Harry jumped up and bellowed the incantation three times in quick succession, pointing his wand at each of his group members in turn.

The first spell hit Megan in the stomach, sending her flying across the room, Blaise managed to dive out of the way of the second with a startled yelp, while Millicent was caught on the shoulder mid dive and went tumbling into Tracy Davies.

The two girls bounced off each other with an almost comic 'boing' sound that was almost lost amidst their shrieks of surprise. Harry was highly glad that the charms teacher possessed the foresight to have even charmed the students with a cushioning charm before letting them loose on one another.

Harry was so glad that he hadn't accidentally killed anyone that he completely missed Tom's shouted warning to "_look out!_" and thus was immensely surprised when Blaise's retaliatory shot caught him in the ankles and sent him tumbling head over heels.

As Harry was once again climbing up from the floor he heard a loud bang as Professor Flitwick called the practical part of the lesson to a close.

Sighing, half with relief at not getting blasted around the room any more, and half in annoyance that the practical was over, Harry returned to his desk and sat down heavily alongside Blaise and Megan.

"You cheated," Blaise said as he took his seat.

"What?" Harry asked, startled by the accusation.

"Yup," the other boy nodded solemnly, "power to purpose casting is definitely cheating. Especially when we're meant to be learning wand motions."

"But I didn't know that!" Harry muttered back frantically, worried that he'd done something wrong.

Blaise chuckled, a wide grin appearing on his face. "Oh, Harry, don't be such a Hufflepuff about it. If you have the power to toss off a spell without using the wand motion then do it. Merlin knows it'll be easier than actually bothering with remembering all those motions."

"Okay, okay. I suppose it isn't that bad then, but what exactly do you mean by purpose to power casting?"

"Power to purpose," Blaise corrected. "It's one of the methods of casting. Haven't you read up on magical theory?"

"No... should I have?" Harry replied worriedly.

"I suppose not," Blaise mused. "Flitwick will probably start talking about it once he's finished consoling Parkinson." (It turned out that she was distraught after one of Malfoy's spells had flipped her upside down, giving their group a show of the girls knickers).

"Fair enough," Harry accepted, looking over at the blubbering girl.

"But then again, chances are he'll only go over the standard model of casting. Intent, motion, and incantation," Blaise said in a speculative manner. "I could summarise if you want."

"Would you?" Harry asked eagerly. "That would be great!"

"Right then, to start with you have your standard casting, as I just mentioned. You need to know the spell, the wand motion, and want to do it in order to cast. The wand motion is based on the runic form that would have done the same or a similar function before wands were developed." Blaise paused there to check Harry was paying attention (he was, although Tom was making snoring noises in the background of Harry's mind).

Satisfied that Harry was listening, Blaise continued. "That method is the easiest to do for most wizards as it has the lowest power drain; using both the motion and the incantation helps the magic come easier. However, it is also the most technically difficult to perform, as you need to be precise with the wand motion, the pronunciation, and you have to time the whole thing so that you do the spell properly."

"Why do we learn that first if it's the most difficult?" Harry butted in, to his right Harry noticed Megan nodding along to his point.

Blaise faked an annoyed scowl at him. "Simple, lowest power drain, and it's meant to be good practice for patience and control. Anyway, the next is power to purpose casting. It has multiple levels, such as the one you used, which still involves using the incantation. The next level is none verbal incantation, which is meant to be much harder. Basically, this method removes the runic form to make casting simpler as you don't need to bother with motions and timing at the expense of doubling the power required to cast."

"And that's what I did?"

"Yup," Blaise informed him succinctly.

"What are the other forms then?"

"Ah, there are loads," Blaise supplied with a shrug. "Intent based casting, free magic, wandless magic. The list goes on. Suffice to say that not many people can do anything other than the two I've just told you about. And few enough can do power to purpose to begin with."

"Can you?" Harry asked timidly, nervous that Blaise would be offended by Harry's asking in case he was unable to.

"Not sure," was his honest reply. "Can't say I've ever tried it, to be honest. Although, if it's probably unlikely that I would be able to right now. The only reason I'm not really surprised that you can do it is because you're Harry Potter."

Harry shifted uncomfortably at those words. Even knowing he had power in spades (not to mention that he could do some wandless magic) and that he could use it in a way his classmates couldn't didn't offset the reminder that the magical community had heaped a lot of expectations upon him from something he had done as a baby.

As such, Harry was highly relieved when Professor Flitwick once again took to the teacher's desk, having successfully calmed down Pansy Parkinson, and began to lecture them on (as Blaise had predicted) the necessity and theory behind the standard model of casting. Flitwick's lecture was much more detailed and informative than Blaise's quick run-through, and Harry found it highly useful, even going so far as to vow to himself that he would learn all his spells using that method before moving on to power to purpose casting.

"Hey Blaise, I have another question," Harry said to the other boy as they packed up at the end of the lesson.

"Go ahead," Blaise replied with a false sigh.

"How come all the Slytherins were already in the class when the Hufflepuffs arrived, even though you both came from history of magic?" Harry asked.

Blaise lifted an eyebrow at him. "Malfoy overheard Bones saying that she thought his legs looked weak, and that she thought he would probably be too slow to get to class on time. Naturally he dragged the rest of us along in an attempt to prove her wrong."

"He actually fell for that?" Harry asked, disbelieving that anybody could be quite so gullible.

"Of course not," Blaise replied with a laugh. "We all knew that she was just trying to get rid of him – well maybe not Crabbe and Goyle – but Malfoy's father is one of Bones' aunt's biggest political rivals. They have to make a show of not liking each other."

"Urgh, not more politics," Harry face-palmed. "Why do they even bother?"

"It's all part of Hogwarts life, Harry," Blaise grinned back at his stony face. "You'll just have to accept it for what it is and ignore any lack of common sense or logical fallacies that you may notice."

"But why-"

"Shush!" Blaise interrupted him. "Stop questioning the status quo, we need it for things to keep working properly."

"_Blessed are all those with a vested interest in maintaining the status quo,_" Tom quipped.

"Shush you," Harry muttered.

"What was that?" Blaise asked, eyebrow once again leaping up as he looked questioningly at Harry.

"Nothing," Harry waved him off.

"Good, now why don't you run along and go to lunch with the other Hufflepuffs," Blaise said with mock condescension. "It seems about time for me to go and act all cold and aloof with the rest of my house while making derogatory comments about the classes and other houses."

"Umm... have fun?" Harry asked as Blaise moved over to the Slytherins.

Taking that as his cue to leave, Harry moved over to the other Hufflepuffs as they started to leave the classroom to head down towards the great hall.

"I still can't believe that Zabini had the nerve to jinx me," Ernie was grouching. "I mean, we were only meant to be casting on people in our own groups!"

"He did say he was aiming for Harry, he probably just missed and hit you by accident," Hannah said diplomatically.

"No, I think he meant to do it. Although I have to admit your face was quite hilarious, Ernie," Susan said with a grin.

"So how did you guys find the lesson?" Harry asked before Ernie (still looking rather mulish) could start complaining again.

"_Tedious_," Tom replied instantly. "_Especially the part where Flitwick talked about casting theory. Such simple things hardly require an explanation._"

_Well I didn't know it, and you were completely less than helpful in that regard, _Harry shot back. Annoyed at Tom's seemingly melancholic mood. "Sorry, Susan, could you say that again?"

"I said it was really fun," Susan repeated good naturedly. "You should have seen Hannah's face when Ernie got her; it was hilarious!"

"It can't have been that bad," Hannah laughed. "At least I'm sure it wasn't as bad as how Sally-Anne looked when she hit you into that stool, Susan."

"I thought I'd bloody well killed her!" Sally-Anne justified her reaction.

"Even though Flitwick had already told us that he'd charmed the room?" Zach put in snidely. Although his words were swiftly met by a chorus of "Shut up Zach!" from Susan, Megan, and Ernie.

"Well I for one found the whole thing to be utterly exciting!" Justin informed them all happily. "I can't wait for our next lesson."

"Don't get too excited, Justin. We've got maths after lunch," Harry said with a wry grin.

"Such a loathsome subject," Ernie muttered from beside him.

The Hufflepuff's conversation continued in much the same vein all the way down from charms to the great hall. It had taken them much longer than expected as at one point they came to the realisation that the staircase they were walking down had somehow placed them on the sixth floor. They then had to take a ludicrously long route back down to avoid any other unexpected traps in the bizarre castle.

Finally settling down at the Hufflepuff table, Harry tucked into his food with a wild abandon (he was still rather excited at being able to eat as much as he wanted) and listened contentedly to the conversations going on around him.

Susan and Hannah had engaged Megan and Sally-Anne in some sort of fashion conversation that went right over Harry's head. Tom summed it up by saying, "_In short, Harry, women like to look good, or at least to give the impression that they look good. Or is it that they want you to think they look good? Or maybe something to do with being seen to care about looking good? Anyway, as I was saying, there's no point what so ever in trying to understand the reasons women do the things they do. Many a man has wasted away thinking about it, even gone mad._"

_That was completely unhelpful_, Harry pointed out as he tucked into a chicken leg.

"_Yes well, my experience with women is rather limited,_" Tom said uncomfortably. "_That's not to say that I was unappealing to women, on the contrary, in my youth I had a great many female suitors. It just so happens that I was both devilishly handsome and an amazing smooth talker_."

_I think that ego of yours should go live in someone else's head, maybe Ernie; it's getting __entirely too cramped in here,_ Harry replied sardonically.

"_Hmph! Now where was I? Oh yes, my experience with women,_" Tom continued despite Harry's protestations. "_As I got older the women that threw themselves at me became more and more – how can I say it – insane. Bellatrix, for example was absolutely-_"

_Shits, Tom, I don't give any,_ Harry interrupted him. Tired of Tom's line of conversation, Harry turned to the other first year boys who were discussing what lessons they were most looking forward to.

"Personally, I'm rather looking forward to transfiguration the most," Justin was saying to Ernie. "Being able to turn one thing into something completely different will be absolutely fabulous!"

"I'm much more looking forward to defence against the dark arts," Zach said. "We'll probably learn how to duel there!"

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," Ernie cautioned in as sage a voice as an eleven year old could muster. "They say the DADA position is cursed, and they've had a different teacher every year for as long as anyone can remember. Not to mention that Professor Quirrell looks like a strong breeze would do him in. I don't think he'd be able to handle a dueling lesson."

"Good point," Zach conceded glumly before turning to the new addition to their conversation. "What about you, Harry?"

"I'm actually looking forward to potions the most," he answered to a myriad of facial expressions ranging from shock (Ernie), horror (Zach), and confusion (Justin).

"Seriously?" all three said nearly simultaneously.

"Yeah, I'm fairly well grounded in potions theory and I've had plenty of practice cooking, so I should be able to handle it fairly well."

"If you say so," Ernie said doubtfully. "You know, I heard that the potions master, Professor Snape, is utterly dreadful to anybody not in Slytherin."

"Yeah, I heard some older students call him the 'bane of Hufflepuff' earlier," Zach agreed with Ernie.

Harry frowned, disliking the idea of having a bully for a teacher (especially in a subject he was excited about). "Hmm, I'm sure that he'll be fine once he sees that we're competent. He can't really be all that bad, otherwise the Headmaster would have sacked him by now."

"_Oh, I wouldn't be so sure about that_," Tom muttered.

Now slightly fearful that Professor Snape _was_ as bad as people seemed to say, Harry shot a quick glance at the high table, just to assure himself that Professor Snape was not some sort of creature of evil made flesh.

What he saw did not reassure him.

Snape was glaring at him with a level of malevolence that any normal person would have found almost impossible to maintain (especially when focusing said glare on a person he had not even met yet). In deed, Snape's hatred was so palpable that even Professor Quirrell had turned away from the potions master and was leaning in the opposite direction. Then again, that could just be because Quirrell was a pansy and Snape was, well, the personification of hatred made flesh.

Taking in the baleful gaze, Harry had just enough time to gulp in terror and register a sharp pain centred on his scar before he snapped his eyes back to his plate.

_Oh dear..._

"_You don't say,_" Tom agreed sarcastically. "_He really does seem to hate you, doesn't he? And why the hell was that feeling when you looked at him?_"

_The pain in my scar? How the hell should I know?_ Harry wailed internally, now getting quite worked up over the idea of Snape hating him (horrible images of Snape using mind powers to torture him were flashing through his mind).

"_Snap out of it!_" Tom admonished sternly, putting an end to Harry's mental blubbering. "_Whatever is going on, we won't be able to do anything about it while you're having a breakdown. We need to think this through and make a plan._"

_What do you have in mind?_ Harry asked, glad that he had Tom to help him through this horrific new line of thought.

"_We need information,_" he said succinctly. "_And it just so happens that we have a nigh undetectable source that can help us with finding out as much about Snape as we can. All we need to do is get the Basilisk to -_"

_You mean Elvis_, Harry butted in. Even in his panicked state he got a kick out of antagonising Tom, and making him call the 'king of serpents' Elvis seemed like a good way to do it.

"_Indeed, Elvis_," Tom hissed with an air of loathing (which cheered Harry up immensely). "_Anyway, when we get a chance, we shall ask her to spend some time monitoring Snape. Once we know a bit more about the situation we should be able to plan accordingly._"

_Sounds like a good plan_, Harry agreed as he tried to regain his appetite by grabbing another chicken leg (he really did love those things).

Soon enough though, Dumbledore was standing up to call an end to lunch and ask the first years to stay behind for their first mathematics workshop in the great hall. Once all of the older students had left the first years were asked to stand up so the room could rearrange itself into desks for them to work at.

True to form, the maths lesson was utterly boring and Harry was able to keep up easily with the material being covered (although he noticed that Hermione Granger from Ravenclaw finished her work twice as quickly as the next best person, also a Ravenclaw).

All through that lesson, and even the one after that, in which they were lectured to about the art of academic writing; Harry's mind was only half on the content of the lesson. Thankfully Tom was able to remind Harry and help him out when he started slacking, but overall, his mind was just too bogged down with worries over Professor Snape to truly focus.

_I really need to find out what his problem is before it becomes my problem_, he thought to himself as he wrote another line on his practice essay (they had to write about a story called The Fountain of Fortune from a book called Tales of Beedle the Bard).

"_Indeed you do, but you also need to watch your grammar,_" Tom admonished him. "_That is clearly a run on sentence!_"

_Like you can talk!_ Harry shot back.

...~IMH~...

...~IMH~...

**A.N.** Wow, that took me a lot longer than I anticipated. Sorry about that.

Anyway, why don't you guys all tell me what you thought in a **review**?

Also, don't forget to check out the new poll on my profile. It's about what sort of pairings you guys would like to see (I've had a lot of different ideas put to me, so I want to see what people are interested in).

As always, thanks a bunch for reading,

blddmn


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